


By the Light of the Moon

by JD_Riley



Series: Victorian A/B/O [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: A Tale of Two Virgins, Alpha/Beta, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Developing Relationship, Disability, Drama, England (Country), F/M, Female!Beta, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Historical, Loss of Virginity, Male!Alpha, Marriage Proposal, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omega Verse, Omegaverse, Physical Disability, Slow Burn, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Victorian, Wheelchair Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-01-28 13:10:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 71,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12607372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JD_Riley/pseuds/JD_Riley
Summary: Omegas are vapid, jealous little creatures that cluster their little pastel and feathered forms together in ballrooms and keep their sharp eyes out for any Beta girl daring to tempt the devilish Alpha Lords, descending upon them with a fury that often gets the poor Betas uninvited from the season's most important soirees and bars them, certainly, from marrying any of the available gentlemen.  A Beta's place is with a Beta, naturally.  Still, Hannah Idlewind is presented with a possibility.  What of the Alphas who receive little to no attention?  What of their prospects?  Flirtation from a Beta brings every Omega clamoring to such an Alpha's side--a strategy many could use to their advantage and something of an adventure if Hannah were to use her imagination.  Surely the endgame is for her to marry, but what is a season with the ton without a little entertainment?  Of course, she wasn't counting on finding any Alphas who were more interested inher, and certainly not the charming though anxious Alpha who hid himself in the ton's London libraries.  Her plot to find him a mate may have an unexpected result.





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn't her first ball though every time she stepped foot into one, she felt like she had stepped right in the middle of some wonderland of fairies and storybook characters. All of the stories Val, her sister's Omega, had told her and her sisters of the fae had rubbed off on her imagination and of course she should consider them to be true about these simultaneously glamorous and dangerous creatures that flitted about in the glittering candlelight. Their dresses swished, their jewels sparkled, and their whispers somehow scattered into the four winds to be found later in the pages of the society papers. Not that Hannah had really seen much about herself in the society papers—Betas never usually did. She had come across the thresholds of ornate town manors without much fanfare, letting the hostesses marvel over her beauty and her height before she carefully paced the walls and drank the punch.

Her chaperone was one of her older aunts on her father's side who spent her days perpetually in town and busied herself daily by being a bit of a natter, painting and chattering on with her elderly friends over a rousing game of whist. Aunt Ellen had never bothered herself by being a match-maker and rather let Hannah do as she would. It was likely that if she were chosen by any of the Beta men, it would a match based in practicality rather than in love though there was always that sort of odd hope, Hannah thought, that she might find something worthwhile in the happenstance of the matter. After all, Drew and Val had found something in the midst of nothing and surely fate could not be so unkind to the second of the Idlewind sisters. Even Quinn, the youngest, had found herself a pen pal in the form of a ruined little fifteen-year-old Omega from Eddington House.

It was enough to make her hopeful, at least, though for Beta girls, hope was a rare occurrence and possibly not at all warranted. Betas were not likely to be heirs to any titles, save the married Mr. Penberth, and though they were often affluent by their own rights, it was nothing to boast about to be a Beta gentleman's wife. She screwed her mouth into a false smile while she passed by a group of matrons who were plotting for their daughters' marriages and she sipped her punch, eying the dance floor. To venture after an Alpha was madness though it was just the kind of madness Hannah thought might have been worthwhile. The fantasy only ever lasted for a moment before she saw the way the groups of Alpha Lords fawned over the pretty, pastel Omega debutantes, asking them to dance for this waltz or that.

She was rarely asked.

“There's Mr. Porter there,” Aunt Ellen noted, sliding up to her side as if she had materialized out of the wall itself. “Looks like he hasn't got a partner and the set's nearly over. If you're thinking about dancing, you ought to make yourself available.”

Hannah glanced at her, surprised. “And how would you know if I was keen to dance?”

“You have that look in your eye. Do you think I haven't been to a party afore, dear?” The woman adjusted the plain gray feathers in her hair and then turned to Hannah, straightening the lace of her neckline, improving her posture though she fair towered above the woman, and brushing off her arms. “You don't have to marry a man this year...or any year for that matter. They're hardly worth a farthing and you very well should know that by now. But you're twenty-one and you ought to at least have a look at the gentlemen before you go about your being a spinster.”

“That's not very kind of you, Aunt Ellen.”

“Nothing _wrong_ with being a spinster. Though, better to be a widow, I suppose.”

She laughed. “You are even more unkind to the men, aren't you?”

“If not I, then whom?” she quipped. “Now, go to Mr. Porter, he's still off by himself and he hasn't even looked once toward that twittering mess of Easter Eggs over by the doors.”

“Alright, alright.” She put her hands together in front of her and moved around the dance floor, easing through the throngs of people to find herself next to the poor Mr. Porter who was a good-looking gentlemen by all accounts but at least two or three inches shorter than she. He turned to her with a forced smile while she curtsied to him. “Mr. Porter,” she murmured politely.

“Miss Idlewind. I haven't seen you since that fundraiser last year. You're out this season, I see.”

“Yes. The first of the fairer sisters,” she mused. “Drew is currently enjoying her happily-ever-after, you see, and she's left the scraps to us.”

He cleared his throat, obviously nervous and more than a little unsettled to be deemed a “scrap.” Perhaps it was particularly ungenerous of her to have characterized him thusly but she couldn't help it. Really, she didn't find him in any way suitable and she was most certain he did not see her as any sort of marriageable. “Well,” he tried, “It's certainly difficult these days to find someone who tickles your fancy. Especially if you're a Beta...I suppose I relate on that count at least.” He took a gulp of his punch, the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Oh yes, I quite agree. Especially if you don't fit the mold of what is desirable these days. You can be as pretty as you want, that's for certain, but if there is but one thing that detracts from that, it is down in the refuse pile you go. Betas are so easily tossed aside, don't you agree?”

“Y-yes...certainly. I suppose it's a bit of a farce isn't it? All of this posturing just so the Omegas can giggle about all of us skittering around each other...'tis a bit awkward.”

“Indeed.”

There was a small pause in which he looked up at her sheepishly. “I suppose you might wish a dance with me?”

“If you promise not to step on my toes,” she told him sternly.

He coughed but took her punch glass and set it down with his before he wordlessly offered her his arm and danced one set with her. He did not step on her toes once and was careful to maintain a decent distance with her, his posture stiff and his mild scent anxious. She thanked him dutifully and returned to her aunt who she gave an arched brow.

“Well good riddance to that one then,” Aunt Ellen smiled. “You've got them thinking you're going to bite their heads off as soon as they look at you with all that banter against them. Men are weak, you know girl. They can't handle the slightest barb from your tongue.”

“Then perhaps they should leave me be.”

Aunt Ellen laughed heartily. “It does them no good when you go seeking them out at my insistence to lay your fangs into them. You'll find them darting into dark corners to avoid you afore long.” Her laugh nearly transformed into a cackle. “Perhaps a strong, hearty Alpha for you. One that can handle a good set of lashings with your brutal tongue.”

“Don't be lewd,” she smiled, giving the startled old woman a small wink. It was too easy to startle the old women of the ton with such things these days. Especially the Betas. With her aunt reduced to speechlessness, Hannah traversed the ballroom again, catching a passing Omega's eye while she went and giving her a soft and warm smile. She was surprised to find one in return though her surprise was short-lived. She was tall and she was an Idlewind. Perhaps they thought she still had the chance to present as an Alpha and by her sister's renowned beauty and loving grace, she would likely be considered a decent catch by a manipulative mama. It was becoming less and less taboo to have a prized daughter marry a female Alpha ever since the Lanchester girl had fallen in with the Duke's heir, Neverell. Ah. If only Hannah could be so lucky. If only she could present as an Alpha and cut off all her hair and find herself accepted and deeply loved by a soft and yielding Omega. It was the stuff of dreams, after all.

Pish posh, she knew. The Omegas might have been kind to her now but it was only because she had not been caught trying to horn in on their territory, that is, the Alpha Lords. As soon as she was caught in any way trying to weasel her way into the arms of one of the titled gents that the Omegas deemed were _theirs_ , she would be cast as an interloper in the society papers and likely barred from half the events held in town that season.

She sighed. The Alphas were too busy crowding about with each other and around the horde of clustered Omegas, picking them off from the edges for dances and keeping them on their toes by acting the part of the hungry fox. They were keen to get a warm, passionate Omega into their clutches and it was likely that most of them would be successful provided they had the money and the contacts to make it happen. Even an Alpha without a title could likely bag himself a decent Omega simply by allowing her instincts to take control of her. If she were to try for one of them, she would likely have to find a widower or an elderly Alpha who was no longer one of the more eligible bachelors. Even then, some Beta girls had faced the derision of their peers.

“You seem pensive,” came a voice to her side and she turned her head in surprise to find Lord Rainton beside her.

_Oh dear, speak of the devil and he shall appear._

Rainton was a quite handsome rake of an Alpha Lord and she'd heard enough about him to be wary of him. As far as his predilections went, she was _not_ included within them and yet here he was by her side and here he was talking to her and here he was risking her well-kept reputation. His smile was warm and there was no hint as to his intentions. She floundered.

“Good evening, my Lord.” She curtsied. “I was merely gathering some wool. Don't mind me, it is a common Idlewind trait, I assure you.”

“I'm sure it is, though I have not had enough time spent with your sister to refute you so I must take your word at face value. Can I get you some punch?”

“I suppose I am a little thirsty...”

He was gone for a few moments, walking through the crowd with his commanding Alpha presence as he went and she looked after him, glancing toward the Omegas to see if any of them had noticed that he was chatting with her. If he were to insist upon a dance, it was certain they would swoop in and take him from her and perhaps that was his plan overall. She narrowed her eyes at him and frowned.

_That must be his plan. To use me for his own ends. To make those little chits jealous..._

She vowed that it would not happen and planted her slippers solidly onto the marble floor while he came back and handed her the drink, raising his glass to her before he sipped his own.

“A remarkable night, isn't it?” he mentioned. “I think it was a damned good idea for them to open the doors. As chilly as it is out there, it's hot as Hades in here and when they're shut, it's difficult to start pulling scents apart. Especially with the Betas,” he mentioned offhandedly. He thought he was being sneaky. “I do enjoy being able to slip outside and look up at the stars as well. Are you fond of the stars, Miss Idlewind? Constellations?”

“I suppose any girl should like to study the stars,” she replied coolly. “I don't know of a single girl who's never run out into a meadow just to gaze up at the night sky. At least in my family that is, though perhaps some girls do not grow up as dreamers.”

“Perish the thought,” he scoffed, sipping his punch. “All girls should grow up with imagination. Though, to be honest, I wasn't much aware of Betas having such strong inclinations toward it.”

“You've been deceived, my Lord. Even Omegas were once Betas. We're all inclined to fantasy. It is just that when you miss your presentation, it is commonly thought that you lose all of your interesting traits...I assure you, it's a fabrication. Anyone who spreads that kind of lie should be strung up by his toes.”

He laughed and it was genuine. The sound wasn't loud but any Alpha's voice was noticeable and to Hannah's horror, several of the little Omega girls had cast their glances toward her and spotted them. There was no doubt that their mamas would coach them to steal Rainton away from her, which was perfectly fine if that was all they did...but if they were keen to destroy her, she would be helpless against them.

“You know,” she mused, feeling a nervous glow begin to tingle in her palms and fingers, “You are bringing me perilously close to a season of derision.” Being straight-forward with Alphas was truly the only way to function properly. Though they and their Omega quarry seemed to dance about things until all their meanings were tied up in knots, Hannah had little patience for it. “I do not have the luxury of becoming flirtatious with you, my Lord.”

“No?” he asked, his tone humored. “That's alright. No need.”

“If I am not within the bounds of your interest, perhaps you should keep yourself from my side. The Omegas do get rather possessive of all of you and I fear I might lose some invitations if you remain too close to me. I _am_ looking to marry, after all.”

“You are blunt,” he smiled, his expression light and charming. “Your candid speech is what betrays you for an Idlewind...though I did hear that a few of you are terribly poetic. Are you fond of poets as well, Miss Idlewind?”

She let her mouth turn up at the edges. “You tease me, sir.”

“Only in good humor. Oh dear, I believe you weren't joking when you mentioned the greedy dispositions of our pastel beauties. I daresay those little pests are headed this way to keep me from you. Well, I shall not let them shame you, or _try_ to shame you...I doubt their success in the matter. Until next time, Miss Idlewind.” He gave her a slight bow while his eyes flitted carefully to a trio of debutantes who were failing to sneak their way through the crowd with determined eyes set upon him. He slipped off from her and she smiled softly at them while the three tried to determine which of them to approach. Their indecision was fatal to their cause as their slight stop had made them vulnerable, the three of them torn apart from each other by Alphas asking them to dance. Rainton was already nearly across the room, avoiding all of the marriage-minded mamas like a seasoned veteran of ball room war.

 _It seems so easy for them._ She sighed. Rainton was a careful man who upheld his image of a bounder though she could not, for the life of her, remember having been told any details of his ravishing or illicit kisses in moonlit gardens. Perhaps, she thought, it was all a fabrication at best. After all, she _had_ heard it said that his tastes ran more toward Omegas of the _male_ persuasion. She wished him luck in her heart. The poor man would probably wait years until another suitable mate arrived on the marriage market.

A soft voice and sweet floral scent graced her while Lady Turnwell stepped to her side. The widow held a small glass of what had to be sherry and she gave a soft and polite little curtsy, looking upward to Hannah with a wide smile. “Miss Idlewind, is it?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“Forgive me for not finding someone to introduce us. Turnwell. You're a marvelous dancer, Miss Idlewind. Your partners have not been well-matched with you this evening.”

“The fate of many young debutantes in their first season, I suppose,” she smiled.

“Ah. I truly came to you because I saw you speaking with Rainton.”

 _Oh dear. Even the widows will tell me to mind my own._ “I assure you, my Lady, Lord Rainton has no interest in a humdrum Beta girl. There's no need to warn me off.”

The woman giggled, her white teeth shining in the glittering warm light of the room. “I didn't come to warn you off. In fact, I came truly in the hope that you might consider dancing with my sister. She's been off in Newcastle to the north for a few years but I convinced her to come and visit me for the season...I thought that with your sister being an Alpha, you might...oh...” the Countess's cheeks turned a deep shade of dusty pink and her shoulders gave a tiny shimmy that was a little like a shrug. “She's had a devil of time with these finicky little feathered Omegas and I fear she's losing her patience with them. If you might dance with her, she could at least come off the wall a bit.”

“An Alpha, your sister?”

“Yes. And terribly bitter about it.”

“Oh dear.”

“Please say yes, Miss Idlewind. You're such a lovely dancer and I know she would have some fun.”

Hannah gave a small smile and nodded. “Yes. Of course. I should not say no to such a request.” It was rather decent that she hadn't, anyhow. As Lady Turnwell returned with her sister, Hannah found her to be of fair beauty. She was not a brunette like her elder sister but a dark blonde with streaks of lighter color that were placed in there by multitudes of days in the sun, the bulk if her long tresses pulled up into a simple chignon. Her skin was not the pale, pretty porcelain of most nobility but was a lovely deeper peach that seemed to have a distinct golden glow. She was sheepish for an Alpha, unused to the formalities of the ton and she seemed stiff in her dress clothes, her palms rasping over the fine fabric of her trousers over her thighs to rid them of nervous sweat. Young, nervous, and just about Hannah's height.

Lady Turnwell introduced them. “Miss Hannah Idlewind, my sister, Miss Alexandra Straffton.”

“Alex,” the Alpha blurted. “Oh...” She frowned at herself. “I...I suppose not...here. I keep forgetting all of the rules. I think when you spend enough time elsewhere than London, it's easy to forget all of that...”

Hannah curtsied. “Think nothing of it. Should you like a dance, Miss Straffton?”

She laughed, the sound fluttering and feminine. “I should be asking you that, should I not?”

“No matter,” Hannah smiled, putting out her hand and delighting in the answering touch. She led the woman to the floor as the set began and let herself casually lead, as Miss Straffton was only a little out of practice. “Your sister said you reside in Newcastle,” she began simply.

“Uh...oh yes. I was...granted a fair bit of money from my father and I've been doing some investing in the north. I've been...taking up a bit of land to host some tenants and there is a small village in the countryside that has need for a few things. When one sees a need that can be filled, it is one's duty as an Alpha to fill it if she has the means, is that not true?”

“You are a fair and decent landlord, I gather?”

Her cheeks were pinkish again. “I have faced some challenges, as I am terribly young. Though I have forgiven many debts, I fear some still see me as an interloper.”

“Give them time,” she replied easily, leading the Alpha into a deceptively tight turn. “At least you might be able to come out of London with a mate this season.” She let her gaze wander to the cluster of Omegas near the doors, their wide eyes often moving to where Hannah was dancing. “They're interested in you now.”

Miss Straffton chuckled, her Alpha scent still nervous but pleased underneath. “How do you do that, Miss Idlewind? Turn their heads so quickly?”

“They're a jealous bunch. If they think a Beta shall steal their possibilities, they will grasp ahold of whatever Alpha has drawn our attentions. I should not be surprised to find that you've danced with a fair number of them for the rest of the evening. They'll probably steal you away and have you panting by the end of the night just so that you mightn't have a chance to dance with me again.”

“All this for being a Beta? I should keep a list of whichever of them dare speak to me to keep me from you to avoid them later. I should have no interest in a woman who can only feign interest for the sake of her supposed Omega dignity.” Miss Straffton scoffed. “Perhaps there are some of them who should not begrudge you for your dynamic...” Her face softened as she studied Hannah. “You are very beautiful, Miss Idlewind.”

“And very tall.”

“I like not having to gaze downward each time I wish to look upon you.”

“Then perhaps you shall have to fight for another dance with me later.”

The set ended and by the time the music was over, Miss Straffton's nervousness had all but disappeared. She lifted Hannah's fingers in her gloved hand and placed a small and affectionate little peck to her knuckles before she led her back to the edge of the dancefloor.

Predictably, the woman was from then on beset by twittering hordes of Omegas. Hannah did not see her again for the rest of the evening and found herself sighing about it in the carriage ride home and refusing to speak to Aunt Ellen about it, only deciding to discuss the events of the night after she'd deposited her shawl on the back of a chair around one in the morning while Val strolled into the parlor, disheveled and awake only to care for the babe at his breast.

The tall Omega often wandered about if the pup woke him in the night, nursing her casually if it was his turn to get up. Drew, Hannah's sister, was more likely to stay in one place if she nursed, rocking and humming and whispering sweet nothings. Val, however, was restless. His voice was sleepy while he wandered in. “You're home rather early. It is only one o'clock. No decent Betas?”

“You know them,” Hannah sighed, plopping down into one of the overstuffed chairs and letting herself become practically boneless. “They were mostly all watching the Alphas play cards, smoking in the garden, or being general bores. They're all shorter than I am...and they don't mind letting me know that it's bothersome. Not only that but now that I've danced with an Alpha, female or not, there will no doubt be some terrible news of me in the society papers come morning and I'll be uninvited from a terrible amount of parties.”

“Oh dear,” Val murmured, his black brows tightening over his enviable crystal blue eyes. “I do hope you're being dramatic. I hardly think your sisters will be happy to find you've done yourself in so early in the season.”

“I suppose I might be,” she breathed, pinching the bridge of her nose while she closed her eyes. “After all, I was _asked_ to dance with the Alpha in question and she was quite kind, though I suppose I shall not have the opportunity again. It is simply to be my fate to be used as a tool to make the Omegas jealous so that they might grab a hold of the less fortunate Alphas. Their strategy is ingenious, honestly, though it comes at my expense.”

“Ah. To artificially create a demand by inciting their jealous wrath...I see.” Val was grinning. “I think you might end up with _more_ invitations, if this is true... Think of all the desperate Alphas who could use such a ruse. Perhaps it is something that could come to be in your advantage, were you to think of it that way.” His gaze was calculating, fixing upon her with a raised brow.

“ _Val..._ ” she chided, though she saw his point. Perhaps...perhaps he was onto something. “Such a business, and that is what it would be, could in no way assist me in finding a mate this season. That is the end goal, you know.”

“Oh, I don't know,” he shrugged. “It could be fun, at least...and it can hardly hurt terribly. After all, you would get to dance with all sorts of Alphas. Perhaps you might draw an eye here or there.”

She snickered in her seat. “You Omegas. You're all terrible, scheming creatures. I love it most avidly when it comes to _you_.”

“I know,” Val grinned, adjusting his little one as she suckled him. “You've a dinner party tomorrow night, don't you? I've heard that Lord Wycombe's younger brother is a bit plain-looking. You know, you might give him a little hope.”

“I'm not listening to this,” she chuckled as she stood up, snatching her shawl from the back of the chair and laughing. “You sound ridiculous and you're going to get me banned from every party.”

“Somehow I doubt that, Miss Hannah.”

Somehow, she didn't know quite how, she doubted it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my story for National Novel Writing Month. It's going to be a fairly light-hearted bit of story that will focus mostly on Hannah's foibles and fumblings. I hope I can make her as lovable as possible even with her fairly mild disposition. She's one of my more mothering characters and she has no idea how perfect she is so it's interesting to have that kind of cute insecurity about her dynamic and her looks and her height.
> 
> If you're interested in it, please feel free to leave a comment. I know Alpha/Beta, M/F seems a little boring for a few people but I hope to make it worthwhile. If you've any questions or you'd just like to talk to me, come visit my writing/Omegaverse Tumblr at **[J.D. Writes](https://jdwrites.tumblr.com/)**.
> 
> Thank you for your readership.


	2. Chapter 2

The fire was warm and he pulled his blanket up a little higher, cuddling in it as if he were a kid again while he stared at the logs burning. It was soft and well-worn but it was his favorite of all of his blankets, knitted with love and care by the housekeeper at Bailey House where he had spent most of his youth. The little portly Omega had spent a few weeks knitting it for him in her downtime and had wrapped it all up in some brown paper to give to him on his birthday. It was mostly blue which was his favorite color and it was wonderfully warm and smelled just like home. It was what he needed when he was forced to stay at their town manor and exactly what he wanted when he was trying to warm up after having been in the rather chilly carriage for the whole ride into London. If he hadn't been told specifically by his father that he was to go to town and respond to the invitations he was likely to receive this year from the hosts of all of these fabulous parties, he would never have gone. He would have stayed right where he felt most comfortable—that is, in his study with his dogs.

As it was, he was only allowed to bring one of his dogs and it had been most difficult to choose. Eventually, he had gone with the one that could spend the most time with him, the smallest, an affectionate little Papillon named Sylvan who was, at current, asleep in his lap, curled into a white and brown little bundle and unbothered by the way he inched up his blanket. Miles gave the small thing a little pat and idly stroked his small head with his thumb while he watched one of the logs break apart and send a flutter of small embers shooting up into the chimney. He went to adjust his little dog and his elbow went and knocked at the bell he kept tied to the arm of his chair.

“Oh dash it...” he muttered, turning to look at the door to the hall which was left standing open and hoping his valet hadn't heard the damned thing ring. He hated to have the man flitting in and out for no reason and it was Miles's least favorite thing about himself—his ability to be a terrible burden. When his valet did not make an appearance, he sighed with relief, refocusing again on the fireplace.

One of the reasons he thought he might like to go to London was to see if he might be able to find a man to make him a new chair. There were plenty of chairs that could have wheels on the bottom of them but most of them were those that relied upon his servants to move him. He had seen chairs that were made with large wheels with small rails that circumnavigated the rim which he could grip in order to propel himself forward. It would be so freeing to be able to move himself rather than to wait for his servants to hear his ring and it was truly all he wanted. What his father wanted from his trip to London was a bit more farfetched and a lot less likely to come into being.

He chuckled to himself and leaned his elbow on the arm of his chair, dropping his cheek into his palm. His father, the Viscount, wanted Miles to learn how to properly behave as his heir. Though he had plenty of other Alpha sons—there were four of them now, after his elder brother's death—he had decided not to deprive the broken one of his title. Miles was his heir, despite every reason why he should not have been. Surprisingly enough, his three younger Alpha brothers were content with the Viscount's decision and did not argue against it even as Miles himself questioned his ability to do what was necessary for the continuation of his line. Yes, his brothers would be successful in supplying any subsequent heirs but the true weight of it was _supposed_ to be upon _his_ shoulders. It was unlikely he would find a mate.

He sighed. When he had first presented, he had been so full of hope. A sweet, generous little Omega mate who might take him into her body and squeeze him while he pleasured her—it was to be his glory to make her cry out his name. Ah. Boyhood fantasies, he thought while he smiled into nothing. It had been years since he'd come down with the disease that had taken the strength from his legs and plenty of time to come to grips with his reality. Though he was plenty able to become aroused, how he would ever convince an Omega to marry him in such a state was something he could not imagine. How he was ever to make love... He sighed but straightened when he heard his valet shuffle in.

“Alright, Mr. Swophill? Are you alright where you are? Perhaps a few inches further from the hearth?”

“I'm alright, Burton. Though some tea would be nice. And might you bring two cups and join me?”

“Of course, sir.” The Beta did as he asked and brought in the tea tray, sitting in the chair provided near to him with his stature professional and his shoulders squared. He kept himself as efficient as possible and his unruffled facade had never cracked despite his relative youth and despite all that had happened between them. If there was any member of the Swophill family that might send someone off into a tizzy these days, it was Miles. Burton was practically inhuman to have withstood every strange occurrence and embarrassing moment. Though, he thought appreciatively, there was something to be said about a valet who was so professional when one was _broken_ as he was.

“Have you looked at my invitations?” he asked, sipping from his teacup.

“No, sir. Should you like me to?”

“Please. You will know which of them to pursue, will you not?”

Burton nodded. “I will ask the housekeeper. She seems to read the society papers and I should fair think she's got some information I might find useful in knowing with whom you should form acquaintance.”

“Wonderful. I'll have to know if I can arrive early anywhere...it wouldn't do to have everyone watching me fumble around being carried up the stairs by the servants...” He felt his cheeks grow hot. Bailey House had been outfitted with stylish stone slopes that were built into the architecture and barely noticeable. It had been something his father had insisted upon after his illness. He did not wish for Miles to feel unwelcome in his own house or like a stranger living in the world. London was not so friendly to a man with his... _disabilities_.

“Oh yes, sir. Yes, of course,” Burton agreed. “Perhaps I shall open your invitations now? They're only right over here.” He got up and fetched them, settling back and opening the heavy parchment paper. He studied them silently, his eyelids fluttering with each that he opened and inspected. “There are many from the haut ton, sir. Peers, it looks to be. Perhaps some of your father's acquaintances. Should you rather the small dinners, or the parties?”

“I suppose I should take a number of each. If I am to be discovered for what I am, I might as well answer everyone's questions early on. Then the society papers can have their fill of me and move on to the more interesting subjects.”

“And what do you think is to be discovered?” Burton asked in a monotone query.

“What I am.”

“Which is?”

His mouth screwed into a frown. “You know what I mean. That I'm _this_. Trapped here. In this chair!”

Burton raised his brows. “I've sent a missive to a chairmaker who was suggested to me by the grocer's delivery boy. I'll be visiting him tomorrow to see what can be done about finding you a decent contraption that should make it possible for you to move on your own. Remember, sir, London is rife with possibilities and it's no bother at all. It's no bother to your hosts either. You're not an eyesore or a burden of any kind and I will make certain that you're not.”

He almost felt as if he'd been scolded and he supposed that he had been so he pouted, leaning his cheek against his palm again while resting his elbow on the arm of his chair.

“Don't sulk like that,” Burton told him, sipping his tea again. “You're in London to talk to people and to have a fair amount of amusement. At least make the attempt to be hopeful about this season. Don't you wish to see the shows and go to the dinners? Forget about what people might say about you or how they might look at you. That's not important is it?”

“Of course it is,” he snapped. “All this time, I've been at Bailey House with my brothers and everyone there has known me for so long. Whenever I meet someone new, they stare at me and they ask me ugly questions. How am I to forget them when I know they will go out of their way to be a bother to me?”

“Someone can only be new to you once and I know you and your wit. You find ways to make people think twice about what they say to you, don't you? Remember the time your father's attorney came to the house?”

He smiled, his ears heating up and no doubt turning a brilliant shade of red with his amusement. The man had been rather tactless in asking him if he'd been thrown from his horse. Of course his reply that he was struck seven times by lightning and thrown to the roof with no ability to get down was met with wide-eyed horror. He laughed again at the memory and grinned at Burton devilishly, “Perhaps though, I should not tell these folks in London that not only was I paralyzed by lightning, I was also transformed into a musical savant. They might call me upon my bluff and ask me to play the pianoforte.”

Burton chuckled and leaned back, sipping his tea again. “Conjure something else, perhaps? A whirlwind that tossed you into the sea... You kissed a frog expecting a princess...”

“I was cursed by an ancient ghost that rattles the chains in the attic of the estate house.”

“You tripped over a scone the cat stole from the pantry and fell down nine flights of stairs.”

“Brigands kidnapped me and in my escape aboard a rival pirate's ship, I slipped on the freshly swabbed deck and washed up upon a deserted island, wounded and desperate, using only my arms and a gentle humpback whale to swim to civilization.”

Burton finally gave a bark of laughter and curled forward with it.

Miles smiled at him. “I don't think I've ever seen you laugh like that. It's nice...you know...making someone happy.”

“Oh, please,” the Beta rolled his eyes, still frothing with laughter, “you make everyone around you laugh.”

“Rarely you.”

“It is not my place to share with you so candidly. Only when you invite me, and here I have been invited,” he explained. “Believe me, you create quite the stir under the stairs at Bailey House and I should tell you, I've been repeating your snark to all of the servants as long as Mr. Emply isn't sneaking about like a ghoul waiting to bash us for proliferating gossip.”

Miles laughed again, leaning forward and disturbing Sylvan enough that the little dog stirred and stood up to stretch, prancing about in a circle before he laid down again under Miles's loving touch. “Oh dear,” he sighed. “It must be such a burden upon him to be the head butler for my father...my father must be such a hard man to please.”

“Hardly,” the valet supplied. “He's just a strict man in his own right and it's nothing to do with your father. It's his pride that has him all up in arms. A man of service, he says. Pride in his work, he says. Looks right down his nose at the rest of us, I'll tell you.” Suddenly, Burton's lips became a flat line and he gave Miles furtive glances. “You won't...you won't tell him I've said it, will you? He could fire me...”

“He can't fire you. You're _my_ valet. You know everything about me. How would I ever find another who could do everything you do for me and still claim me not a burden?”

“I claim nothing. It's not my opinion. I swear to you, you're not a burden and I will take that right to my grave with me. Any time you need to hear it, I'll say it. You need only ask and I will reassure you.”

“Hmm,” he breathed as he leaned back in his chair. “What have I done to deserve you, Burton?”

The Beta smiled and poured himself another cup of tea. “You invite me to tea...and sometimes brandy. It is a lucky valet who can count his master as a friend. That or a foolish one.”

“I hope you do not think yourself the latter.”

“Never. Now, are you warm enough, sir? Shall I get things ready for bed?”

“You've only just poured yourself a second cup. At least finish it before you rush off to tuck me in.” He was content only when the valet sat back down again and settled in, their conversation turning to what shows they might wish to see. It was customary for the valet to also get a ticket so that he might sit with him if he should need anything and it was perhaps this that also made the matter of their friendship so much easier. It would be nice for them both to get out a bit and see London without his family and his father always stepping over him. It had seemed, earlier in the evening, that coming to the city without his large family to help him ease his interactions was going to be such a terrible ordeal but now, with the reassurance of his invaluable valet, Miles thought it just might be the thing to crack him out of his stale habits. Though, he thought morosely, he did hope there would be plenty of time for him to read, for he dearly loved to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voila. Miles. Handsome, funny, and bolstered by his valet because, as we should all know by now from any of J.D.'s stories, the Beta valet is the _most important_ literary invention.
> 
> National Novel Writing Month is going well so far...I hope everyone will fall in love with Miles...I know I will. (ﾉﾟ▽ﾟ)ﾉ


	3. Chapter 3

Hannah was holding onto Drew's arm while they strolled in the sunshine at the park, their warm winter clothes bundled around them even as the small patches of drifted snow were melting in the afternoon sun. It was still cold but in midwinter, a hint of a distant spring was all that was needed to set Hannah's mind toward a dim happiness. She had never been keen to enjoy the snow like Drew and Quinn had been. _Must be an Alpha trait_ , she wondered puzzlingly. She had always seemed overly cold when the bitter winds blew and only when the temperature rose enough for her to not wear heavy cloaks did she spend any great time out of doors. A walk in the park with her bonnet and her ermine-lined cloak and winter boots was supposed to be terribly short but Drew did have a way about making things last much longer than Hannah hoped.

“Now tell me,” Drew mused in her low feminine tone, “I heard that Val suggested something terrifically scandalous to you about your season.”

“And who told you that?”

“Well, Val, of course.”

“Ah,” Hannah smiled, eying the Omegas who openly stared at her from their carriages where they were bundled up like fat little birds with floofy pale feathers sticking up comically from their bonnets. “His suggestion _was_ rather dastardly, I'll admit. It would get me into bunches of trouble with the mamas, which really only makes it all the more tempting. It would be worth it if only to see the way those Omegas would let their jaws fall to the floor for my audacity. You should have seen their panic when they saw Rainton chatting with me for only a minute last night.”

“Ah, ah. Now, don't get ahead of yourself. He only told me that he suggested _something_ , he didn't say what it _was_.”

“Oh,” she giggled, “he told me to imagine how the Omegas might react if I were to give attention to those Alphas who do not normally receive any.”

Drew pursed her lips. “A rogue Beta _matchmaker?_ ”

“How I would ever get away with it without getting myself launched out of every season party, I've no idea.”

“No need to come up with one, I've already got it for you.”

Hannah gasped, “No! Tell me you do not. If it is truly to be so easy, I should do it just for the silliness of it. If I am to eventually settle down with a respectable Beta mate, it might be much too tempting to have all of my fun while I'm still cavorting about unmarried. How in the world am I not to be considered a scandalous harlot?” Her cheeks were burning and suddenly it didn't feel so terribly cold in the park.

“Simple,” Drew smirked, shrugging her broad shoulders while they walked, “Lady Hayworth is to be at the dinner tonight. You tell her of your plot and she shares with the Omega mamas that you'll be getting their precious Alpha boys married and you'll be the most sought-after Beta in London. There's nothing an Omega mama loves more than their Alpha sons and they'll do just about anything to get them to finally settle down so that they might not have to worry about them anymore...”

“That _is_ dastardly. It is really no wonder that you and Valentine are made for each other. It is likely that you could both have come up with something so evil.”

“Evil?” the Alpha laughed. “It could be naught but a service to humanity. It will definitely do plenty to curb the boredom of the season, that's for certain, and you almost never hear of a Beta in the society papers.”

Hannah elbowed her sister in the ribs. “You _cannot_ want me in the society papers. I'll make the other sisters scandalized and unfit to marry.”

“I'll marry them off to lonely country Alphas if I have to,” Drew joked, smiling broadly. “If you really do wish to have this devious kind of fun this season, I'm entirely moved to let it happen. Idlewinds do nothing simply and our romance is never something so dull and boring as to be characterized by the term “ _settling_ ” so I will hereby refuse to hear that word from your lips when it comes to your future husband. You should not _settle_ for anything, Hannah, and remember: you don't have to find a husband this year. Or any year. Perhaps you will allow yourself to age to twenty-five and then take a lover in secret.”

“You should never let me have such a scandal.”

“Why not? You're talking to the woman who married a prior-bonded Omega. I think nothing of scandal. Excitement. Intrigue.” Her Alpha sister winked at her with a lopsided grin. “It's about time a Beta set the ton on their heels and it may as well be the sister of the first Lady Earl.”

“I suppose you're right.”

“Of course I'm right.”

She laughed through her nose. Her sister was an Alpha, there was no doubt about that. When she had her mind set upon something, she was a bull that charged forward with no backward glances. She got what she wanted through any means necessary and had no mind for anything save the end result. It was very much an Alpha trait and one that she had fully succumbed to after her presentation. She was also her father's daughter. Poetic, willful, and exquisitely handsome. Hannah leaned her head on her sister's shoulder with affection. “I'm so happy you found Valentine.”

“Mmm,” Drew sighed. “I'm glad you all love him so much. Could you imagine if I had come home with some odious little chit? It surprised me, you know, knowing that they should see Betas as their enemies in the ballroom and yet all of you insisted that you would dote upon whomever I married...”

“Of course we would, even if she were odious. We're Idlewinds,” she said, rolling her eyes, “If you don't like us, we shall force you to through sheer will and kindness alone.”

“And thus why I know your plan to make matches this season with your wayward attentions couldn't possibly end in scandal,” Drew supplied. “You're too likeable.”

Hannah rolled her eyes again and sniffed. “And you are too generous with me. Now take me home, I'm getting cold out here.”

“As you wish.”

It was nice to be back inside and sipping tea by the hearth but it was soon enough that she was whisked away upstairs by her lady's maid who was insistent about doing her hair before she was to attend that night's dinner. She spent hours getting ready and by the time she came downstairs again, Aunt Ellen was waiting for her by the door and she was stepping out into the cold again with her cloak over her shoulders and her muff over her hands. Drew kissed her cheeks by the door and wished her luck while Val leaned forward and whispered deviously into her ear his parting words.

_“Remember Lord Wycombe's brother.”_

Her face flushed and Ellen fussed over her cheeks in the carriage ride over, twittering nonsense until they were practically upon the doorstep. The silver light of the moon was basking them in a dull gleam until the warm light of the front hall was cast upon them from the open door and Hannah had to keep her smile pasted on. She was in no way certain of how she was possibly going to weather this night without having deliberately stepped on Mr. Porter's foot to keep him from changing his mind about her and there were a few other Beta men she found entirely unsuited that she knew would be in attendance. They would quite likely require a foot-stomping as well. It was much harder to do so when there was no dancing involved but not impossible.

“Miss Idlewind!” chirped Lady Wycombe. “You're looking absolutely stunning this evening,” the Omega told her, having to crane her neck to look up into Hannah's face. Such a height difference must have been a terror for the poor dears, she thought mildly while she made her thank yous and then wandered into the drawing room before supper where a few of the girls were clustered about the pianoforte.

“Oh dear,” she mumbled.

“What?” Ellen asked, fiddling with her reticule.

“I'm the only Beta...”

“You should consider it a compliment, dear,” Ellen replied. “You were invited is the thing. If my assumptions are correct, there should be a good number of Beta men, only a few Alphas, and all of the decent Omega girls.” She lowered her voice. “Good for _you_ , of course. You should have a good chance of getting these Betas to look at you.”

She raised a brow and whispered to her Aunt while sidled together in the drawing room. “Why mostly Beta men?”

“Well, it's truly because Lord Wycombe's brother has been actively looking for a mate. He's a nice man but he's got a rather _overbearing_ scent, if you ask me, and his face is...rather plain.”

“Hmm,” she hummed while she thought, her eyes scattering over the room until she found the enigmatic Lady Hayworth sitting on the blue settee with a glass of sherry in her hand while she spoke with a petite little Omega girl who was standing to her side. With a bit of posturing and some maneuvering, she made her way to the settee and sat delicately upon the other end of it, aware that her somewhat intimidating form was a bit awkward to behold, forming a somewhat uneven appearance to the room when she was seated next to the small Lady Hayworth. She glanced once to the woman's profile and was happy to scent the notes of interest in the woman's scent.

“Miss Witherson, have you met Miss Idlewind?” Lady Hayworth supplied, casting a warm smile in her direction. Her auburn hair was pinned up with shining pearls, piled atop her head with a few lazy curls left out about her neck, tickling over her often-flaunted bondmark. Her eyes were sharp—nearly overly so.

“A pleasure,” Miss Witherson cooed in her slight and pretty voice while she curtsied low.

“Charmed,” Hannah replied, standing again and this time going a tad out of her way, holding out her hand. The Omega was only a trifle flustered by the gesture, not expectant in the least to find a Beta woman conforming to a somewhat _male_ etiquette. She gave out her hand anyway, perhaps as a product of her startled state and stared at Hannah when she gently brought the her small fingers to her mouth and pressed her delicate knuckles to her lips.

“Oh...”

“Pardon,” Hannah smiled. “I don't mean to overstep, it is only that if I am fortunate enough to one day present, I should like to remain in your good graces...”

Lady Hayworth's eyes were narrowed and her lips spread in a catlike grin while she sipped her sherry, watching the subtle spectacle with poorly hidden amusement. “You certainly have the height for it, my dear, and it would be lovely to behold. Oh the hope of it does set one atingle, doesn't it?”

Miss Witherson innocently tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and murmured a careful withdrawal with another, deeper, curtsy, skittering back to her comrades near the pianoforte while Hannah was free to sit herself back down next to Lady Hayworth.

“How devious of you, for an Idlewind,” Lady Hayworth commented lightly. “I should wonder what would make you do it, for it cannot be what charming golden lies you told our little dear.”

“Forgive me,” Hannah said candidly, jutting out her chin. “I wanted you alone.”

She smiled. “I only assumed. Though what you could want with me, I shouldn't even begin to speculate. You must already know everything about Mr. Porter. He's really the only suitable Beta here...the other two are much too old for you, though they probably do not consider themselves such.” She hushed her voice and leaned ever-so-slightly toward Hannah, “ _Believe me. I know these things only too well._ ”

Hannah smiled. “Actually...I was supposing that you might be able to aide me in a bit of...mischief.”

Lady Hayworth straightened, her eyes flashing and her mouth spreading into a fox smile that was only a millimeter away from becoming a hearty grin. “Oh please tell me you've decided to pursue an _Alpha_.”

“Oh dear. Half to the truth,” she admitted. Before she could admit to the rest of it, they were greeted by a few of the gentlemen who had only just arrived and Hannah had to hold in her voice and Lady Hayworth, it seemed, had to hold in her excitement until the Alphas had moved on to their perusal of the present Omegas. She inched herself toward the older Omega woman and muttered lowly as not to have anyone overhear. “I've thought about perhaps flitting about the...less suitable Alphas. Perhaps a bit of attention wouldn't do them any harm. If I am not to their liking then surely they would find a better match among the ladies that come to their rescue...”

“Unheard of,” Lady Hayworth marveled, her tone suggesting that she was behind the matter with her whole heart. “I know exactly what you want from me and I can only be so happy to provide it...though...” her eyes narrowed with amusement. “I suppose you should begin with—”

“What's his name?” Hannah asked, half to herself, “Rodney?”

“That's right.”

“Rodney then.”

“I can't stop you from making a spectacle of yourself but I can certainly let the mothers know their boys will have a decent go at the Omegas this season if they invite you to their parties... _if_ that is the case, of course.”

“Of course,” she supplied before she stood, giving the Omega a curtsy and wandering the room, avoiding the older Betas and giving Mr. Porter a warning glance that promised him punishment if he bothered her that night. He obeyed her, even as dinner was in full swing and they were placed next to each other. He left her alone save for some casual pleasantries while she conversed with the nearest little Omega, charming her much like she had with Miss Witherson.

_They really are such simple creatures when it comes right down to it. They feed off respect, kindness, and a decisive bit of etiquette._

As mighty an enemy they saw in Beta girls, the Omegas were most often beset by the enemy they sought to marry. The Alphas were the foxes that circled and looked for a way in, looked for a weakness. They found them by brute strength and manipulative wiles rather than charm for the most part and it was this that Hannah recognized. She needn't defeat them. There was no purpose to it. She merely had to use their own defenses against them to stop her own boredom. In the mean time, she could dance with Alpha gentlemen, Beta gentlemen, why—any gentleman she damned well pleased.

She chuckled to herself over the wine she was poured with her roast duck and cast her cinnamon brown eyes, heavy-lidded down the table toward Rodney, Lord Wycombe's younger brother, until the man sensed her gaze and looked at her. She must have looked particularly predatory for she saw him gulp and quickly turn his eyes away, staring at nothing for a moment before he fumbled for his brandy.

_Oh Hannah,_ she thought while she sipped and smiled to herself, _let the games begin._

* * *

He was putting on a brave face, that was at least what he knew he could do. It didn't matter what he felt on the inside, it was only what he presented on the outside that had any bearing to his situation and nervousness was something he did not have the patience to entertain. His father had made a decent amount of friends and one had happened to be the previous Lord Marksdown. The current Lord was very much in favor of continuing the friendship of their lines and had invited him to a small dinner to make his acquaintance. He could only hope that if he ended up leaving a tad early, it would not seem as though he were unappreciative of the gesture, it was only that he was wont to get tired long before anyone else at a party.

Lady Marksdown was a slim and pretty blonde Omega who reminded him a bit of the fairies he used to find illustrated in his mother's books. Her high cheekbones and classically beautiful face was complemented by her drawn and braided flaxen hair and a smattering of light freckles that most likely sent her into fits. Most ladies were absolutely incensed by their freckles, though Miles had to admit, he found them absolutely quaint, especially when girls were nearly covered in them. She was the type of woman who was never taken by surprise and she barely batted an eyelash when she greeted him in the front hall after the servants had carried him up the stone steps. Her tone was light and she wasted no time giving him a curtsy and welcoming him into their home. She barely gave his chair a second glance which was nice, he thought, for it was so tiring to have such regal women debase themselves by openly staring. He expected it from the debutantes but not so much from the wives of nobles. She did not disappoint.

Burton brought him into the drawing room and gave him a glance to ask him if he was alright before he left to make himself useful elsewhere with the servants. He would remain in the wings with his ear on the party to know when to move him into the dining room as Miles loathed having other party guests touch his chair. They were not knowledgeable of the nuances of his chair and often he found them bumping things and they were often surprised to find that he was fully capable of feeling exactly which of his knees had taken the brunt of the edge of a table. He assured Burton with a small nod and settled himself in. Although he would have liked to have had his favorite blanket over him, it was a bit ragged and he had agreed when Burton had suggested a somewhat heavy black wool replacement that would mesh well with his evening clothes.

“Mr. Swophill,” Marksdown greeted as he walked into the drawing room with effortless grace, bowing politely as he kept his hands behind his back, “It's good to finally meet you. I knew your brother though he did not come to many gatherings.”

Miles smiled, “You might have known my brother better than I, myself, did. He had little patience for me.”

“I suppose it's of no consequence now,” Marksdown provided. “Drinks? Perhaps a sherry before supper?”

“Kind of you, thank you.” He was provided with a glass and nearly as soon as he had it in his hand, he was surprised by the arrival of more guests. He had only just made it in time, he thought with relief. To be carried up the steps in front of the other dinner guests would have put him in such a foul mood. He was equally as happy to be present before any other guests if only that he was the first to be introduced to everyone, taking stock of everyone who happened to be present as he was introduced.

“Lord and Lady Halwill, this is Mr. Swophill, _the second son,_ ” he added with emphasis, and Miles was deeply appreciative of that. If there was anything he could not abide, it was to be mistaken for that rake of a brother he hadn't been sorry to see put in the ground. The bounder had to have been half or whole mad to have thought that he could have fought for Miss Lanchester's hand with a brusque and dangerous Alpha such as Captain Neverell. He'd never the met the woman but he dearly hoped he one day would—she seemed a force he should love to witness.

Lord Halwill bowed while Lady Halwill gave him a light curtsy. The Viscount's eyes lingers a bit while his well-shaped brow arched in the middle. “A pleasure, Mr. Swophill.”

Marksdown addressed Halwill as an aside with a comical little grin. “I hope you won't dash out, old friend, I didn't think Asterly would come...”

Halwill glowered but said nothing, giving Miles another small bow before he excused himself for the brandy at the side cupboard, the man's scent practically bristling when the tallest Alpha Miles had ever seen strolled leisurely through the archway into the drawing room. On his arm was his small mate, an ever-coveted male Omega. Miles let his eyes wander from Halwill's back to the newcomer with curious interest until Marksdown ushered his newly arrived guest over.

“His Grace and His Grace, the Dukes of Asterly,” Marksdown proudly beamed, “This is Mr. Swophill.” He again included that Miles was the second son and the smaller Lord Asterly's mild anxiety fluttered straight out of his slender shoulders.

The formalities were exchanged as well as some pleasantries until the smaller Lord Asterly was guided away by Lady Marksdown for a chat and Miles was left with the imposing figure of the large—huge—Duke of Asterly standing next to him, comfortably with a glass of bourbon in his hand. With one gold eye flicking downward, he noted the empty glass in Miles's hands.

“Another, Mr. Swophill?” he asked.

“Oh,” Miles quipped, as if he hadn't noticed he'd drained it. “Of course...thank you.” He had surely been given drinks by all sorts in his life but to be waited on by a Duke was something he didn't know if he could recall. When he was given another sherry, he thanked Asterly again, somewhat stumbling over his words. “You have a l-lovely mate. I had heard that the fairer men were somewhat of a rarity in London's ton.”

Asterly grinned down at him. “You heard right. If you're looking for one, I daresay you've picked a terrible season to hunt. There are none that I've seen this year and it's hardly worth it for me to look anyhow. I've got the best one there will ever be, after all.”

“Hah!” He hadn't expected such a response. He hadn't expected any of them to assume he was in any way fit to find a mate and here to find that a Duke of all people should completely ignore the fact that he couldn't reasonably be expected to have the ability to do so—it was striking him as wholly bizarre. “I have been under the impression that the girls in ballrooms have a knack for avoiding the Alphas that prowl about the edges until they're asked to dance. I suppose I should have no hope of catching one unawares.”

“Nonsense,” Asterly replied with a striking amount of nonchalance. “You're better suited than any of us, I'd wager, and I will admit, I _may_ begin a wager.” He chuckled while he looked down into his bourbon. “No Omega should ever begin to think you a threat and, if you don't mind the sentiment, they won't have to strain their necks to look up at you.”

Miles laughed, thoroughly amused by the tall Alpha beside him and wonderfully ruffled by how delighted he could be to be within the presence of people who seemed so damned uninterested in how horrible it must have been to _be him_. God, it was refreshing. He would have to tell Burton all about it later when they were sitting together.

Unfortunately, he found that during dinner, he was not seated anywhere near the Lords Asterly and had instead been placed next to a debutante's mother and a passive Beta man who was wistfully gazing at all of the Omegas present. Across from him directly was a widowed Omega that he noted didn't exceptionally appreciate being placed where she was and he resigned himself to having rather unsuitable dinner companions. The Beta barely spoke and only sighed every so often, his low voice a mumbled monotone that betrayed his hopelessness of his prospects with any of the ladies present. His attempt at conversation with the mother of the debutante was stilted and odd, her pitying looks telling enough that he was to get nowhere with her. His last resort was the widow who looked at him as if she would rather talk to a fish.

_Oh well. At least there will be brandy and cigars after this. Perhaps with enough liquor, I can fall asleep in my chair and I won't have to concern myself with any of them. Nobody seems to mind when I snooze anywhere I please._

The Omegas excused themselves to the drawing room where they would chat about different topics and perhaps share some literature or poetry while they waited for the Alphas, and the single lonesome Beta, to rejoin them. Miles redirected his attention toward Marksdown and the other men while he was poured some brandy. He passed on the cigars, content to merely sit and sip his liquor, hoping to get as sloshed as he could, not that he was doing any good with it—he'd obviously not had enough.

The Baron Rainton was lounging back in his chair while he smoked and listened to Halwill scolding him.

“You're going to find yourself a doddering old man before you find someone who fits all of your qualifications for a mate, you know. There are _none_ of what you're looking for, and my friend, _we know_ what you're looking for. If you're feeling so adamant to find one, I'm afraid you might have to take a short trip across the pond. There has to be some American heir like the one Penberth's got who can make it worth your while, but you won't find him in a ballroom the way he did...”

“I don't need advice, Halwill,” Rainton explained. “Save your advice for someone who really can't get what they want. Aside, if I did need advice, I should think I would go to Penberth for it. He's the one who has the _type_.”

“Perhaps,” Marksdown teased, “You should have let the little one punch you in the face. He might have had a change of heart right then and there if you'd been brave enough to weather it.”

“After seeing him fight, I wouldn't let his left hand near me for all the money in all your pockets right now.”

Halwill grunted his agreement before he cast a petulant glare toward Asterly. “And your mate, Asterly?” he asked, drawing the Duke's surprised gaze. “Would you let him punch you?”

“If I deserved it. Though I hardly think that if Rainton allowed a man to hit him that it would increase his odds of marriage. Not that you've asked for my opinion on _that_ matter.” Asterly turned his head to Miles. “And you, Swophill? Any input?”

“None at all,” he admitted, feeling a little stupid. “I've spent no time at all in pursuit of any suitors and I'm...rather ill-equipped, I'm afraid.” He joked, feeling awkward, “I fear I'm no great dancer and it seems these days that most Omegas are rather fond of the activity...and in regards to being punched by one, I'm afraid I have no experience in that matter at all.”

“Good lord,” Rainton scoffed, “Only imagining someone punching you sets me on edge. That someone might have the _nerve..._ ”

Miles chuckled. “Being punched is possibly a small price to pay for an Omega's affections.”

“Unnecessary in your case, surely,” Halwill remarked.

“Perhaps,” he shrugged. “I have resigned myself in most regards to remaining...er...unmated...it is unlikely that—”

“Oh no,” Asterly interrupted. “You can't mean you're not going to _try_.”

“Unmated?” Halwill croaked, “You're not serious.”

The two Alphas peered at each other, their mutual animosity temporarily forgotten. Asterly looked again at Miles with a serious expression clouding his golden eyes.

“Listen here, Swophill. I know your father. He's a decent man and he's got a good head on his shoulders. If he didn't believe that you could fend for yourself among the ton, he wouldn't have sent you here alone. With that said, none of us in this room have any doubt that you should be able to find a mate. Perhaps not this season, perhaps not even the next, but you can't just roll over and die.”

“Here, here,” Marksdown agreed, leaning over the table while he gulped at his brandy. “A movement to make it so that we might get Swophill a mate!” He banged his empty glass on the table twice.

Halwill was chuckling. “For once in my life, I'm in agreement with Asterly. You haven't got any reason why you shouldn't be able to find a mate other than mere logistics.”

Miles balked. “Forgive my candidness, gentlemen, but I can't use my legs. How am I supposed to court a debutante? How am I supposed to take her on strolls or dance with her?”

_How am I supposed to make love to her? Help her through her heat? Protect her?_

“Logistics, all of it,” Halwill explained, waving his hand in the air. “I think we know exactly the woman who can help us if we're to conspire to find you a mate. You're an _Alpha_ , your family isn't bankrupt, and you've got a handsome face. That you can't walk is...” Halwill looked around at the others, raising his brows to search them for the word he wanted.

Asterly provided, “Irrelevant. Mostly.”

Miles had never thought that he would ever characterize the men of the ton as _silly_ and yet here he was and there they were and it all seemed so...so... _absurd_. He allowed himself a small chuckle which then evolved into a formless laugh that seemed to have the group of men leaning forward, staring at him as if they didn't understand what in the world he could be laughing at. Of course, he was laughing _at them_ and this was not something that noble gentlemen had possibly ever encountered outside of their marriages, if they were currently in one, and thus they were unprepared to handle the notion well. They remained silent until Miles had run out of laughter, composing himself with a few “hmmm” sounds while he wiped his eyes with the backs of his fingers.

“Oh dear,” he mumbled. “I'm sorry if I've offended you. It's simply that I'm very much not used to this. I do hope you're not making fun. I should be very sore about it, if you are.”

“No,” Asterly stated seriously, looking around at Halwill with a grave expression. “In fact, we should call upon our acquaintance as soon as possible if we're going to be placing bets on how quickly you'll be getting a mate.”

“And what sort of match-maker is it who would be able to get a broken Alpha a mate?”

Halwill grinned, looking around to each of the men at the table and tipping his glass while he replied, “Why, the only Omega in London who can bring a man to his knees in the middle of a ballroom and slap him with a fan to beat a proposal out of him.” He laughed heartily. “The only woman who's had a hand in all of our marriages, of course.   _Lady Hayworth_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I ever named chapters, this one would probably be called "A Perfect Storm."
> 
> Remember to come visit me at my writing/Omegaverse Tumblr, **[J.D. Writes](https://jdwrites.tumblr.com/)** for drabbles, headcanons, conversation, etc. Shoot me an ask or slide right into my DMs.
> 
> Thank you for any of your comments and your kudos. I love hearing input and I sincerely enjoy hearing what you think of the characters. This one is just loaded with cameos so if you haven't read my other works, make sure to check them out if you're eyeballing my secondaries.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a biting winter night but the sky was completely clear, small specks of white starlight twinkling in the blanket of pitch black. There was no wind but the cold air itself was enough to nip at the ears and the tip of the nose, quickly sucking all the warmth out of fingertips. Though the sky was clear, it still seemed such a dreary night to have a ball to Hannah. When it was cold, she always felt as though she were somehow more lethargic and even with Spring teasing in the mid afternoons, night was betraying that it was still the depths of winter.

Inside, the rooms in the Hayworth town manor were warm and overly filled with a multitude of scents, some rooms more tilted toward the Omegas' sweet perfume and some tilted toward the more bold and spiced scents of the Alphas. As a Beta, she found them to be at best, mildly enjoyable, and at worst, overpoweringly obnoxious. She was mostly fond of a particular scent she'd found at several events and often she surreptitiously followed the little Omega for her scent was much like warm caramel with just a dash of brown sugar. She had no true interest in the girl's name or background but her scent was too sweet to let go without a decent sniff or two which was only too easy being as tall as she was and able to shuffle behind the little woman to delicately whiff the feathers from her hair. The Alphas were less attractive in their scents and most of them only reminded her of burning wood, or even worse, burning _hair._ Fortunately, she didn't have to spend much time with them at all and when their nervousness left them, so did most of the unpleasant tones in their scents.

Her charms a few nights ago had completely befuddled Reynold, Lord Wycombe's brother, and before he'd known it, he was swimming in Omegas after she'd only said about five words to him. She played the event off with such guileless appeal that she had mightily impressed the Lady Hayworth by naturally avoiding the sharp stares of any of the Omegas present. In fact, her seemingly effortless ability to placate the offended parties by kissing the backs of their fingers and casting over them flirting glances was something the Lady was still twittering over even at her own masquerade. She had greeted Hannah as she walked in with such emphatic address that Hannah was glad for her mask for it hid the blush that spread through her cheeks. There could be no doubt among the hostesses of the ton, Hannah was by no means a meek Beta and she was by no means to be taken for granted. If Lady Hayworth found her valuable, it must have been that she _was_.

She spent most of her time wandering about among all the masked people in the ballroom, easily recognizable for her height and her subtle Beta coloring. Betas were most often known for their deeper colors that were sometimes even considered more bold than the Omega pastels. Royal blues, forest greens, and even rambunctious sanguine reds were some of the more eye-catching colors. Hannah was fashionably dressed with a swooping neckline in an elegant and expensive purple gown that was trimmed in gray and silver and frothing with lace in all the right places. Her mask was a matching hue and lined in silvery threads, embroidered with a beautiful and ornate laced pattern that should have made any of the Omegas with their honestly boring fluff-lined things as jealous as ever. She had certainly planned on their being jealous. After all, she was going to be making them practically pant over flitting between Alphas all night to keep her away from them.

Lady Hayworth found her while she was watching the groups of dancers from the sidelines and sidled up next to her, content and practically preening while she played with the way her hair wisped out of her coiffure near her ears. “Samwell should use some of your attentions first, my dear. He's been drooling over Miss Bennington for an hour and she's barely given him a sniff. A few eyes in her direction while you're dancing with him should at least get her up in a bit of a tizzy.”

“And where is her mother?” Hannah asked, giving the woman a grin.

“Oh, you dangerous girl. Have I mentioned how much I like you? I daresay you and I are going to be _fast_ friends. Her mother is near the punch bowl. The one with too many feathers off to the side and in the color she should have kept to when she was a debutante herself. Nobody over thirty wears _that_ color anymore.”

Hannah hummed with her smile. “I think I'll make eyes at her too. No doubt if her daughter isn't paying attention, _she_ is.” With that, she made her move, walking through the crowd and ignoring everyone until she'd come to Samwell and caught his attention, his soft brown eyes lighting with surprise when he finally fully saw her.

“Miss Idlewind!” he greeted with a small gulp. He was only just as tall as she was and he couldn't help flicking his eyes downward to take in more of her form. “You look... _dashing_ tonight...” He frowned under his black domino mask and she could see his frustration with himself at his own choice of words. _Dashing_ wasn't usually what one called a woman. His scent faltered.

She held up her hand with a little kitten smile and delighted when he took the invitation and welcomed the distraction. The set was just beginning and of _course_ it was a waltz and she was thrilled to her toes that she was finally, _finally_ just doing what she wanted. There was a price, of course, she thought, when she took a careful step and discreetly turned her head to cast the smuggest, most arrogant set of eyes upon Miss Bennington's mother that she could possibly conjure. As was expected, the woman was staring straight at her, as were plenty of the other mothers, and she was so livid, it was a wonder she hadn't shattered the punch glass in her hand. After another whirl or so, she made certain to look at the twittering mass of Omegas who were clustered even tighter together while the ones at the edges watched her intently. She smiled at Miss Bennington before she pointedly ignored her, flicking her gaze back to Samwell who seemed to be losing his nervousness by the moment.

“You're a wonderful dancer,” she told him in her low, steady tone.

“It does take a set of partners,” he provided with a bit of a flush in his cheeks. “You're a might bit better than some of the ladies here and I hope I don't offend when I express surprise at that fact...the Beta girls seem to often be less practiced.”

“With so many sisters who fantasize about ballrooms and dancing, there is no possible way any of the Idlewinds should ever want for practice in dancing.” She rolled her eyes and relished his short chuckle which was deep and so very Alpha that it thrummed in her senses.

“That is most assuredly the most lovely thing I've heard all night. Such affection you must share with your sisters.”

“The most. They are my very best friends.”

His eyes flitted downward and then up again, warm and amused behind his mask. “I think you're the first Beta I've danced with this season. How is it that you aren't so skittish as the rest of them?”

She fixed him with an indulgent grin. “How am I to know if I'll even _be_ a Beta by the time I'm twenty-two? I'm as tall as you are, aren't I?”

He let go of a slight puff of air that resembled the beginnings of an incredulous laugh.

“I should do whatever I want. If I'm destined to be an Alpha like my sister, I should at least dance with any man I want when I still can. Who wants to go into a presentation, or a marriage, in the other case, with regrets?”

“You are a bold Beta, if I may say so.”

“You may say whatever you wish,” she provided as the set ended. He moved to escort her back to the side of the dance floor but she waved him off. “No need. You'll want to sort out your dance partner for the next set, if I'm not mistaken and you'll want plenty of time...”

His eyes flashed toward confusion. “Hmm? My...?”

She nodded over his shoulder and he turned about to look at a small faction of Omegas fighting through the crowd toward them, deceptively sneaky as they ducked and dodged the other Alphas to make their way over.

“Oh dear...” he gulped while Hannah slipped away.

She didn't expect to be caught by Mrs Bennington. She hadn't thought anyone would be so brazen as to actually speak to her and certainly not with such vitriol disguised as charm.

“A marvelous dancer,” she quipped, her green eyes sharp and cutting. “One would never expect it of your dynamic. The Alpha seemed...surprised. No doubt he's not often approached by...”

“By a Beta?” she supplied while she jutted out her chin and accepted a glass of punch from a waiting servant. “I suppose Miss Bennington was waiting for the right moment to strike? She seemed awful timid to me. I do apologize if I took up her waltz. Without dance cards, it's so difficult to know whose toes I might step on.” She grinned at herself.

Mrs Bennington's normally sweet Omega scent was souring fast. “Perhaps it is difficult for you to determine which of the men should be best suited to you, Miss Idlewind. My advice should be for you to simply look a few inches _lower_ than your gaze.”

That stung. The Beta gentlemen were so often intimidated by her height that it was too easy of a target for this protective mother and she had honed in on the insecurity with extreme precision. Hannah steeled herself and drew up to her full height, looking right down her nose at the presumptuous little matron. “It is a little difficult for me,” she said stiffly, “as it is so much easier to merely look upon something at the _same_ level with my eye. I wonder if some gentlemen feel the same.” She turned and addressed the woman without even looking at her. “Have a good evening, Mrs Bennington and good luck to your daughter.”

“Hmmph!” She trotted off, her nose high.

_Unappreciative little—_

“Miss Idlewind,” Lady Hayworth beamed, coming up beside her with the brightest of grins. “You are a force, indeed. Just look at the man, drowning in those twittering little plumes of feathers. I hope you simply live for the excitement of it because you are going to make so many waves this season. Gracious, I hope that officious woman didn't put you off because you have been doing _splendidly_. I haven't been so excited about something since I orchestrated Halwill's _groveling_ for Georgette.”

“No, no,” she sighed. “It is inevitable that they will chat about me in their little circles and plot my demise, for certain. But they can only reach their black little claws so far.”

“Indeed,” Lady Hayworth preened. “You'll have plenty of invitations to choose from, certainly, and you'll have the society paper's authors scratching their pretty little heads over you. What a daring and subversive little plot. And all so you can dance with whomever you wish. If only more Betas were so bold, we might have a little revolution on our hands.”

She smiled and pulled out her fan, flipping it open and fluttering it a bit before she decided that the scent and the heat was getting a little too much for her. She excused herself from her co-conspirator’s side and walked to the coat room to find her cloak, slipping it over her shoulders before she found her way outside onto the terrace which only had a slight dusting of snow over its stone surface. There was less snow in the capital than the country and somehow, even though she hated the cold, she was still missing the rolling pure white fields of Netherfield Estate and the fat flakes that fell over the unsullied meadows. There was nothing quite like a bracing ride through previously untouched snow and here, there was none of that. All slush.

Hannah crinkled her nose, finding it difficult in the freezing air.  Nice and clear as it was, it was much too chilly to remain outside and though she had begun her quest for freedom, the specter of Mrs Bennington really had put a dark mark over her emotion. She wouldn't disappear for the duration of the party but she would have to find somewhere else to hide for at least a few more moments. Outside was not an option and she was much too anxious to remain in the ballroom to be stared at by all of the indignant Omegas. There was enough fodder for the society papers already, could she dare make _more_ of a stir? She doubted it. The patience of the ton was often slim and fickle.

_Uppity._  That’s what they called Beta girls who looked for  _more_.  Not that Hannah needed an Alpha Lord, by any means.  The Beta men seemed, too, to be infatuated by the tiny and pastel-colored flutters of feathers and lace.  That the men seemed perfectly able to pursue the Omegas seemingly without losing any invitations was what really irked her.  They faced opposition, surely, but an ambitious Beta found other ways to get what he wanted right under an Alpha’s nose. Especially if that Alpha was in no way titled.

She couldn’t feel her fingers anymore so she turned around, easing open the french doors and slipping inside.  It was still quite warm in the ballroom so she slipped off her cloak, wandering along the wall to put it back before she brushed off her gown, fluffed her regal skirts, and straightened herself to her full height with her shoulders proudly squared.  If she was eventually going to procure a husband, she thought, he’d better know exactly what he was getting from the moment he saw her. A small group of Omegas twittered by her as she paced through the ballroom, the lot of them probably not even tall enough to reach the silk flowers that decorated her braids.  One of them stopped to peer at her curiously, looking her up and down before giving the air a curious sniff.  It wasn’t likely that the little one would have ever been able to discern her scent from the hundreds of others in the room anyhow, but she supposed that the gesture was meant to determine whether or not Hannah was, in fact, a Beta at all, though the fact should have been obvious from her dance with Samwell. When she was inspected as such by the pretty debutantes, she wondered if she might have been happier had she presented after all.  In any case, she made a polite curtsy to the beautiful blonde Omega and gave her a gentle smile, pleased at the one she received in return before the little one’s friends pulled her away with giggles and whispers, their arched brows hidden.

She looked about for Lady Hayworth and found her practically encircled by a cluster of Alphas, most of them peers. They were looming over her and she barely batted an eye, in fact, she seemed almost smug about something despite the fact that they had her nearly backed up against the wall. She broke through between the two tallest of them by batting the tallest with her fan on his arm until he moved and she turned again seemingly scolding them before she haughtily bounced off in Hannah's direction.

“What on earth are you up to?” Hannah asked her, still eying the men of the group. With their masks, it was difficult to tell who they were though some were just the faintest bit familiar.

“Don't be nosy,” Lady Hayworth grinned, obviously not upset in the slightest that she had asked. “These men always seem to think that miracles grow on trees...or that they're _free_. Neither of which is ever the case,” she explained.

“Oh?”

“Oh no, dear. If you excel at anything, make certain you only do it free once or twice. It catches the interest.”

“And what do they want?”

Lady Hayworth waved her hand in the air. “I've already told you what they want.”

“A miracle?”

“Exactly.”

There wasn't much point in trying to weasel it out of the little Omega woman so Hannah just turned her eyes back to the dance floor. When Hayworth spoke again, she said exactly what Hannah had already determined.

“Perhaps one Alpha is enough for the night. To be too industrious is to be presumptuous. You look as if you might need something stiffer to drink than my punch, though, if you're going to let these Betas step on your toes. Mr. Porter has been avoiding you specifically all night and he's really the only decent dancer.”

“Stiffer to drink? That's quite devious of you,” she chuckled.

“It’s true. There’s sherry in the library down the hall.  You’re an Idlewind so I doubt you’d have any trouble sniffing out where my books are kept. You’re all so lovely and keenly intelligent.  I hope you’re looking for an Alpha in the end, you know.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked, genuinely confused.

“Oh dear, you’re much too spirited for the Betas.  They’ve been only too loose with their tongues this evening about how you're an unsuitable match for them.  They hate to feel small, you know.  Men!  Honestly, what could ever be done with them?  No, my dear,” she stated with an emphatic hand gesture, “ _you_  are deserving of something much more powerful than any insecure Beta.”  She was still smiling upwards. “Only an Alpha will do for you.”

She chuckled through her nose.  “If the process were as easy as the declaration, I should be married already for how many times my sisters have said something of the like.”

“Of course, dear.”

She decided to take Lady Hayworth’s advice and meandered her way out of the ballroom to the hall, admiring the paintings upon the walls as she went, predictably knowing exactly where she was going.  

The library was warm with a full fire stoked.  Entering quietly, she hadn’t expected to find any others there but the scent of  _Alpha_  met her as soon as she was a few steps in and she paused for a moment, her eyes dashing about the room to find the source.  A lone Beta at risk to be compromised with a lone Alpha was  _not_ something the ton would likely forgive and there was no Omega scent present to suggest that the Alpha was not alone.  Venturing a few more steps into the room, she found the source rather easily and let her shoulders lose the tension they had gained from the scent.

He was sitting near the fire, his cheek in his hand and his elbow on the armrest of a chair outfitted with  _wheels_  upon the bottom of it, making it possible for him to simply remain sitting, which much have been due to some kind of malady which made him—  

She paused, as the thought she had conjured immediately had been inconsiderate, consisting of the term “incomplete.”  He was whole, as was evidenced by his shoes which showed from under a finely crafted wool blanket upon his lap which was draped over much of his legs, it was just that he very possibly was  _disabled._ The thought tugged at her as she watched him snooze in the orange firelight.

_So much for a party with dancing,_  she thought, moving on to the side cupboard and pouring herself a sherry.   _Such events must be terribly boring for him.  It’s a wonder he came at all._ Keeping as quiet as possible, she pulled an interesting-looking book from one of the shelves and sat down upon one of the settees to read it, flipping through the pages only a few feet from him, unworried now about her chastity or her reputation.

A few minutes later and he stirred, coming awake gracefully with a casual sniff before his sleepy eyes blinked away the glaze and his handsome face spread into a small, close-mouthed smile.

“Evening,” she greeted him, holding her place in her book.  “You know, you shouldn’t fall asleep at parties, who knows what kind of rabble could have come in here and compromised you?”

He had the good manners to at least chuckle at her terrible jest while he rubbed at his eyes and took in a deep, wakeful breath.  “Dear me,” he mused, “I do have a tendency to get tired after a while and these events do seem to go so terribly late.”

“It is only eleven, Alpha.  Hardly late.”

He sighed.  “Yes. I suppose you’re right.  It is only late for me.  I hadn’t expected to have company so out of the way…I hope I did not snore too loudly.”

“Not at all,” she smiled.  “I’ve had no luck with dancing this evening.  I’m not a very good partner, apparently.  Most of the Betas here are of the mind that I am much too...” she thought of what Lady Hayworth had said and amended it gently. “Tall.”  She tried not to let the sting of the truth bleed into her voice. That the Betas found her too daring, though that was exactly what she had wanted to be. She supposed that perhaps she may not end up dancing with any man she pleased this season.

“Fancy that,” he grinned, “I’ve no luck dancing either.”

She covered her mouth with her cupped hand and failed to stifle a set of Omega-like giggles.  “Oh no!  You should not make me laugh at such misfortune! That is very unkind of you to set this upon me!”

“It was meant to make you laugh,” he replied warmly.  “And if I might hear that sound again, I should be thrilled to bits.  Do you make a habit of laughing at the misfortune of others or only when they joke about it?”

“Do not!” she pleaded, still letting loose a few short snippets of giggling.  “You are a terribly mean-spirited Alpha, aren’t you?  I should like to think that whatever put you into your predicament was a revenge-minded lover who coshed your feet with her heels.”

He laughed, leaning forward with his enthusiasm.  “You only say such things because you know I cannot catch you if you skitter away from me. Cowardly, indeed!”

“Should you be so insulting if I were to sit close enough to reach?” she teased, suddenly appalled at herself for her unabashed flirting.

One of his brows arched dangerously.  “Perhaps I would not, though I can’t see how much fun that kind of boring conversation could be.  I rather like you as a viper.”

“A  _viper?!_ ” she gasped.  “How ungenerous of you.”

His smile was a full beam, his white teeth flashing in the dim firelight, his Alpha scent clearly pleased.  “I say it with the utmost affection.  If I were to lavish you with compliments, how trustworthy should you think me?  You are much more than a compliment, Miss…”

“Idlewind. Hannah Idlewind.”

His smile grew even warmer, drawing up his eyes.  “Miss Idlewind.”

She could feel a deep blush in her face and she wished she had her fan handy to cool herself from this unexpected onslaught.  “Thank you,” she replied, feeling the phrase woefully inadequate.

“Do not thank me.  I’ve been terribly uncharitable tonight.  I hope you can forgive me.”

She held up her book to her chest to shield herself.  “Perhaps I can,” she responded, “if you are to tell me who you are.”

“Oh, dear me,” he laughed again.  “Such trifles always seem to slip my mind.  I’m Swophill.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone frequents my writing Tumblr, they'll see quite a bit of the end of this chapter to be familiar, though I did rework it a bit to fit with the narrative that was developed when I started writing Hannah's plot line. Hopefully their meeting comes off as quirky and endearing as I wished it to be.
> 
> **Next:** Miles finds out Hannah's already heard his name...


	5. Chapter 5

He could see the recognition in her soft, cinnamon eyes and she was suddenly clouded by it. In that short moment, he cursed his older brother for being such a filthy, abhorrent mongrel of a man. He could observe merely by such a small and nearly imperceptible reaction that she knew their name and that he had been shamed by his own kin so resolutely that every fragile fiber of trust or rapport he'd managed to create with her, even alone in a library together, was plucked and broken. There was not a shred of it left. Her mild scent was cut with shock and a guarded unease and her grip over the book she held against her chest was tightened, the cover of it becoming a shield with which she would fight him off if need be. Her short response was merely a product of her surprise.

“Oh.”

He felt his smile lessen and then disappear while he looked down at his hands. She knew more than was usual, he felt and though he could stem the bleeding, the wound was open and fresh. “I suppose you've heard of my brother's atrocities.”

She made the attempt to gather herself and Miles felt his heart ache. He had been having such a lovely time with her, saucy as she was, and here he had to go and ruin it. If only he didn't have to share his name with that _wastrel_. If only his brother could have been a decent man, at the very least. Miss Idlewind cleared her throat and let her shoulders relax just a tad though she kept the book up as her defense.

“I...my sister...the youngest. Her pen pal is the little Omega that...”

_Oh God. The Omega that Handel ruined._

“Yes. I know of the event. My brother was disinherited by our father long before and he was not a man of strong character though a man of strong convictions. He was not expecting our father, indulgent as he can be, to impose a consequence for his dalliances, gambling, and...well...the rest. As terrible as it was, there's no return ticket.” He sighed, wishing there were any way for him to bring back that bubbling girl he'd met only minutes before. She was elegantly beautiful with long auburn hair pulled back and expressive eyes under her mask. Even without seeing the curve of her nose or the sculpture of the fine bones in her cheeks, he would know she was beautiful. It was in the perfect plushness of her pink lips and how they pouted naturally over her delicate chin. The line of her jaw and the point where it ended just under her ear had him wondering just how strong her Beta scent should be if he were to press his nose against that yielding softness. If only. If only. If only. Despite all of his resolution that he should not be bothered if he did not find a mate, he found himself here in this library fantasizing over a Beta, of all women.

_But she is exquisite._

“It...must have been difficult,” she swallowed. “For your father. His eldest...”

Miles nodded. “Yes though not as difficult as you might imagine. I suppose he had already done Handel a great disservice by never regarding him in the same light as his other sons.”

“Oh?” She leaned forward only the slightest amount. “He was not the favored child?”

“No. Admittedly, I was.” He felt his face flush. “My father was indulgent with all of us usually but with me...I...” He frowned. “I had not meant to require more of him, though it seemed to be my lot. Now, I can only hope to pay my dues and carry his title, though I am reluctant...”

She closed the book though some of her tension remained while she leaned forward again. “Reluctant? Why? Is it not every Alpha son's dream to become his father's heir?”

“I am hardly the ideal.”

She frowned lightly. “Surely you've some experience...”

“I do what I can,” he explained. “It takes me a longer while to do such simple tasks, though I have managed to take over most of our estate's duties and I look after things in my father's stead if he has somewhere to be.”

She relaxed even further. “Oh you're already fit for the title, I'm certain. You cannot be your father's favored son for no reason.” With this, her small smile returned and his heart rejoiced in it, singing out in his chest and thumping hard. “You have already shown me your dastardly wit, which, in my opinion, is something that all the Alpha Lords must come about through inheritance. You are destined to be a nobleman, no doubt.”

He smirked. “You believe so?”

“Most certainly. Tell me. You must have arrived here for some other reason than to hide away in the library all night. Have you been to the ballroom? All of the Omega girls—”

He had stopped her short with an skeptical expression.

“Well, surely you must see the need to at least try for their attentions. You cannot think that you'll merely find one falling right into your lap.”

He quirked his mouth. “I've no illusions, Miss Idlewind, and I've told the other Alphas such. It is unlikely that an Omega debutante would choose someone like me for a mate and—”

“That's absurd,” she interrupted, though from the thoughtful look in her light brown eyes, he could tell that she didn't entirely believe what she was saying. One of her long fingers she brought to her plump bottom lip and tapped, thinking while her brows softly knit in the center. Suddenly, she stood, and Miles felt his heart constrict. “I've had a thought, though...I must go. It was very lovely to make your acquaintance, Mr. Swophill—”

His throat had almost closed at the fear of suddenly losing her—or, at the very least, her company. “Wait!”

She paused, the book she was to replace still in her hands.

“Your thought...”

“Unimportant, I assure you,” she claimed, shaking her head lightly. “It has been quite nice to sit and chat with you, but I'm afraid I've been missing too long and my Aunt will surely be wondering where I've gone. It wouldn't do to have someone come in while we're alone together and...” She looked at him, studying him in his chair and appearing perplexed. It was perhaps that she was thinking of how in the world she could ever be compromised by him, though society was less forgiving of such matters, he knew. “I've already created enough of a stir. I'm certain you'll read about it in the papers if you care to mind such drivel.” She laughed nervously while she replaced her book.

“Miss Idlewind,” he tried as she was headed for the door. He was leaning forward and he knew he looked much too desperate while she froze and looked at him, her eyes wide and searching. “Thank you for...listening to me. It is not everyday that I am blessed so.”

He couldn't tell with the dim light and her mask if she had blushed at all though her small nod was bashful and he was certain that he must have gotten his point across. He hadn't thought, for all the world, that he should find himself sitting and chatting with a lone debutante and certainly not one so beautiful and so charming. He was still marveling over it fifteen minutes later when the boisterous group of Alphas burst into the library, their scents warring and mingled with those of the Omegas they had danced with. Asterly of course walked to the side cupboard first and the rest of them seemed to disperse into the room, taking up spaces upon the couch and several of the overstuffed chairs.

“Well...” Halwill sighed, putting his feet up on the ottoman before his seat. “It wasn't as successful as we could have hoped. I'm damned sorry about that, old chap.”

“Sorry?” Miles asked. “If _she_ was Lady Hayworth's choice then I should have to tell you, you've nothing to be sorry for.” He felt his heart balloon and fill with welling appreciation. “She was stunning and no matter that she was no Omega... Lady Hayworth must be some sort of genie to fulfill a wish so aptly.”

Asterly and Halwill exchanged puzzled expressions.

“I assure you, I'd never considered holding fondness for a Beta, but she was beautiful...inside and out, a soul with so much wit and untapped affection...”

There was a long pause in which Miles presumed the men were puzzling out just how in the world he might have been content to have found a Beta as opposed to the more ideal Omega candidates. They needn't be concerned. When they had told him that tonight, they were to chat with Lady Hayworth to see if the woman couldn't have a hand in his romance, he hadn't expected anything to come of it. In fact, he had thought that he would spend the rest of the night entirely alone and had much preferred that notion to having to spend it speaking awkwardly with a debutante and her reluctant mother, the unfortunate pair herded into the out-of-the-way library in order to persuade affection. This was much more fluid and natural, as if she had carelessly stumbled across him. It was much preferable to the manufactured sort of meeting that he'd imagined and though she had, regrettably, been put out by his kin, he felt as though there were something at least somewhat meaningful in how she had looked at him—with warmth.

“Truly, gentlemen,” he supplied, “Do not concern yourselves over the suitability. It is enough to give me hope and that is invaluable for a man in my position, you understand. God, I have not felt so earnestly giddy since I was a boy. I hope I was not too...” He couldn't settle on a word. “Too _anything_. I do not think that she found me distasteful at all which...which is so...well it is just so damned _nice_ of her.”

Halwill and Asterly were still exchanging looks, glancing every so often to Rainton and Marksdown who were equally as bewildered. Rainton was the first to speak.

“I'm sorry, I must have been dancing while something important was discussed or decided. Who was it, exactly, that Lady Hayworth sent to speak with you, Swophill?”

“Miss Idlewind. I suppose she wouldn't be considered _ideal_ for an Alpha, but for me? Lady Hayworth must truly be a woman who spins your golden miracles, no doubt. Miss Idlewind is a treasure to behold.”

Asterly nodded vacantly. “Interesting.”

“Indeed,” Halwill mused.

Rainton was set into a light chuckle and he raised his brows while he also nodded.

Marksdown merely stared at the carpet, his mouth covered by one hand as if he were lost in contemplation.

“I wonder,” Miles blurted happily, “Where she shall be next. I should most certainly find out which invitations she will accept so that I might cross paths with her again. She is quite lovely and I'm keen to see her again. I suppose it would be presumptuous to send her a note already after having not even been properly introduced. Goodness, how does one go about courting a Beta? It is not as though I may count upon my scent for her to accept...” He frowned lightly. “Do you think it would be terribly difficult for me to compete against the Betas for her affection? If they could dance with her?”

There was a bit of a pause until Asterly cleared his throat. “No. Not at all. A Beta is normally an untitled gentleman. You'd have no competition there in that regard, even if the man could dance. Though, I suppose she could still fall in love with one.”

“Yes,” he smiled at his lap. “I suppose she could.” He hoped that she wouldn't, or even that she couldn't. Though she may have been a Beta, she had admitted that the Beta males had found her unsuitable—they had found her to be too tall for them, an issue that mattered little to a man who was trapped in his chair. She was perfection. No, he thought fondly, she could only marry some Beta out of necessity. Perhaps desperation. It wouldn't happen. Not if he had a say in it. God, he would have given anything to have had the ability to get up and chase her when she had flitted from the room. He would have given anything to be able to get her close enough to dip his nose down to her throat, even if her scent couldn't make him shudder with need. Somehow, he knew his need for her would stem from something deeper. Something he didn't quite understand but fully recognized.

“Good lord,” Rainton quipped. “You're smitten.”

He felt his face heat and suddenly he wished he were not so close to the fire, his eyes lifting to Rainton where he lounged on the settee.

“Absolutely _mashed,_ aren't you? Over a _Beta_ girl.”

“Let us be fair to him,” Halwill noted, “She is an Idlewind. They're all very beautiful.”

“No doubt,” Rainton agreed. “Not only that but they're exceptionally well bred and insightful. Lord Netherfield certainly did wonders with his brood, that is for certain.” Rainton swung his legs from the settee and stood, meandering over to the side cupboard near Asterly to get himself a drink. “That Lady Hayworth thought to send her must have been...” He looked at Halwill. “Providence.”

“Something like that,” Asterly said.

Miles was still much too flustered over his good luck to bother with their thoughtful and pensive moods. He asked if any of them could be bothered to get him a drink and was pleased to have one in his hand, sipping his brandy while the course of their conversation changed and naturally turned toward business rather than mates. He listened intently to the chatter and kept his mind's channels as open as possible until he found the gentle tug of Morpheus upon him again. It was much too late into the night by the time Burton came by and he found himself having to shake his head to rid himself of any muddled thoughts as he bid his new friends adieu and left discreetly, assured by the staff that not a soul was about to see him being carried in his chair down the steps to the carriage.

When he was back at the town manor, he was so drowsy that putting on his sleep clothes was very much a chore and he even managed to ungracefully slip off into a deep snooze while Burton was administering his nightly massage while he lay prostrate on the bed. As sore as the hard kneading usually made him, he could barely even bring himself to notice it and he had to be coaxed by the valet to help him to negotiate the covers of his bed to get under them, rather than over them. Finally nestled into his mountain of pillows, he shot out his hand, his eyes still closed, and found Burton's wrist.

“Yes, sir?” Burton asked dutifully.

“I've found her, my friend.”

“Her?” the valet asked lightly, humoring him in his sleep-addled state.

“Yes,” he mumbled into the darkness, the weight of sleep heavy over his mind and coming down over him like a tangible blanket. “I've found her and she's so fair and lovely.”

“Who is this, Mr. Swophill?”

He smiled, his heart swelling and fit to burst. “The woman I'm going to marry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh.


	6. Chapter 6

“Hannah?” Drew called from the front hall. She was just about to walk down the stairs when the Alpha called for her and so she was on them when Drew caught sight of her. “Did you do something last night that I should know about?”

She was about to ask her sister what she could have meant until she saw the well-formed bouquet of white roses in her hands. “Oh dear. Is that...?”

“For you? Yes. From the Countess Britton. Do you know what that's about?”

She brought her hand up to her heart. The Countess Britton was Samwell's _aunt_. It was only too obvious what she had done and it was only too obvious that the gratitude for it was going to have a terrific effect on her social life. Of course, her image was likely to be smeared forever. “Does it have a card?”

“It does. I haven't opened it.”

“Let's.” She came to the bottom of the stairs and tapped across the floor while Drew set the fragrant thing down and opened the card, handing it to her to read first. She skimmed it before reading aloud. “Dearest Miss Idlewind. Your subtle favors do not go unnoticed. Thank you, most ardently. Countess Britton.” She looked up at her sister's impressed expression and sighed. “You should not look so smitten with my aptitude for matchmaking if you have not read the society papers today.”

“You believe yourself to be in them?”

It was almost too perfect for Val to appear when he did, his blue eyes wide and horrified as he stood in the doorway from the kitchen with the paper in his hands. He had just finished nursing the little Constance and he had read something so traumatic that he hadn't even had the time to put himself to rights, his shirt gaping open and a ruddy flush spreading over his chest and neck with his emotion. “Look!” he breathlessly exclaimed, thrusting out the paper in his fist. “Look what they've _written about you!_ ”

Drew was the first to approach him, her steps quick and her touch over him coming first to his his balled little fist and the second to the back of his neck, squeezing gently in order to calm and sooth him. “ _Shhhh, Omega,_ ” she whispered. “ _It cannot be so bad._ ” Her gentle touched urged him into her chest and she kneaded the back of his neck while Hannah took the paper and watched her sister comfort her mate. It was odd to behold, the way her soft touch over him could bring him from pique to a puddle of contentment in mere seconds. Every bit of his worry melted from his brow while he sagged against her, his nose searching for her throat to seek out her scent.

If only she could have had such comfort in her own instincts. Surely they would have been buried in her _somewhere_. After all, everyone had the potential for it, did they not? She suddenly wished that an Alpha would do something similar at least once to her. Perhaps a firm but loving press against the back of her neck could ease every stress. Perhaps that was wishful thinking. She opened the crumpled paper and examined it.

“Oh dear.”

“Is it terrible?” Drew asked while she ran her fingers through the hair at the back of Valentine's head.

“It's not very good. I think I've been called worse, though. By Chastity when I've made off with her favorite ribbons.”

“I wish you wouldn't rile her so,” Drew sighed. “I suppose you might not be receiving many invitations today, then?”

“Well, I'm not sure, I—”

The bell rang and the housekeeper made to answer, opening the door while they all stood in the front hall like a bunch of sticks standing in a foot of mud, Valentine a hopeless mess with his hair mussed by loving hands and his shirt practically hanging off one shoulder. It seemed not to matter to the whirlwind who entered, Lady Hayworth prancing in with a hearty hello to the housekeeper, the pluming feathers on her hat bouncing along with her step when she beamed at them all.

“Good morning, my sunbeams! What a glorious day! I apologize for stopping by so hideously early but that is what good friends do, of course, dropping by while you're still in your morning dress! I do hope we're good enough friends for that, at least, and we should be! Conspirators, we are!” She happily approached and then looked at Val who seemed entirely disinterested in anything going on around him. “Oh, dear,” she said. “I've come at an emotional time. I suppose he read the papers.”

“He did,” Hannah supplied.

“Well no matter. Drivel, the lot of it. I suppose you received your gift from Lady Britton.”

Hannah offered her arm and led the woman toward the drawing room while Drew gave them a very slight bow and led Val off somewhere else to recuperate. “Yes. I did. You had a hand in it?”

“I merely made certain that your efforts were not in vain. You see, if such a thing is a plot from _my_ end, it is likely to be received better than if _you_ had devised it. Even your prodding at the bear seemed to do wonders.” She dropped her tone and turned her head to speak more closely with Hannah while they entered the drawing room. “I heard tell that Miss Bennington allowed herself to be taken out to my terrace. There may or may not have been a risque little rendezvous involving her _scent_ with our dear Samwell.”

“Did that make it into the papers?”

“Of course it did but the true hero is the one who brought the little lady into a tizzy. I expect that Samwell will surely be able to get the little thing as a mate by the end of the season and it's all thanks to you. The Countess will not forget that. She's having a small garden party tomorrow night as the weather is to be unseasonably warm, and I've got your invitation to it right here in my reticule.”

“You do?” she asked, only too surprised to cover her shock.

“Sit down, Beta, before you faint,” she laughed, twittering about while Hannah sank to the settee. “Of course I've also made certain that Lady Britton invited Miss Bennington too. There's never a princess without the fearsome dragon...that's you.”

Hannah smiled, her cheeks warm. “I do rather like playing the evil temptress...”

“The men are going to be fawning over you. That or their mothers will be. Ah. They might play that they dislike you but it's all for show. The only women who hate you are those mothers of the debutantes.” She shimmied her shoulders, her scent practically glittering with excitement. “How did you like the library last night?”

Hannah paused for a moment and then gave a sudden laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. “I knew! Or...I suspected! You sent me in there so that I could meet him—Mr. Swophill.”

“You've caught me,” she grinned. “When Asterly and the rest of them came to me, they were asking me to find Mr. Swophill a mate this season and insisted that their pocketbooks demanded that he be wed. It is just like those Alphas to wager upon a matter of the heart. How uncouth.” She flitted about the room like a little bird too unsettled to rest properly. “I was hoping that you might find him and determine whether or not he was civilized enough to bother with the effort.”

“Did you not meet him when he came to your ball?”

“Of course I did, but I can only greet someone for a few seconds. I needed a spy. So. Opinions?” She finally sat heavily across from her, fluffing out her skirts while she waited for Hannah's account of what happened in the library the previous night.

She thought for a moment, her eyes flitting back and forth over the carpet while she tried to run through the events and every word the man had said to her. He was handsome, no doubt. He had light, mousy brown hair and a charming though somewhat lopsided smile with a decently strong jaw and sparkling eyes that might have been somewhere halfway between gray and green. She wasn't certain of their color from the warm orange light of the fire but she was certain they were not blue and equally as convinced that they were not brown. He was affable, humorous, and decidedly wicked but only in the best of ways...which was why she had been so taken aback when she had found him to be who he was. She looked up at Lady Hayworth.

“I suppose,” she started, picking at the fabric of her skirt. “That...I...didn't expect him to be so polite. I've only ever heard of his brother and...I guess I thought their dispositions would be similar.” It wasn't only that. It was that somehow she had thought that she had wandered straight into a trap. That perhaps he wasn't truly stuck in his chair and he had gone to that library waiting for some unsuspecting girl to fall straight into his ruse. “He is... _confined_ , is he not?”

Lady Hayworth leaned forward, frowning. “To his chair? Of course he is. That's why I thought the notion of finding him an Omega was absurd. There's no point in getting him one. He couldn't help her through any of her heats. To find him a mate would be—”

“A miracle,” Hannah interrupted. “That's what you said last night. But you changed your mind. You sent me.”

“Of course I did. You're perfect.”

Perfect. It was a bit of a scheme and it was something that would test her ability no doubt. Even with the attentions of a Beta, it would be difficult to know how far the debutantes would go to protect the Alphas from her attentions. He was unsuitable for the lot of them and it would have been only too plain for them to note. Though, she thought wryly, if she were as hated as the society papers suggested, she could have had plenty of Omegas getting in the way simply to ruin her plot, which would make getting at least one of them to fall in love with Mr. Swophill a tad easier. Of course, the man would have to be on his very best behavior and charm them so much so that they could imagine themselves as his wife.

She sighed. “This doesn't seem like the sort of thing that would end well. I only wished to have more fun than the average Beta this season. I hadn't wished to break anyone's heart.”

“Who said anything about breaking a man's heart?” she snipped. “I've a fantastic success rate, there's no possible way you could fail. Just spend some time with him. Talk to him. I'll get the Countess to let you sit next to him at dinner tomorrow night.”

“He's coming?” She felt her face get even warmer and she felt like a complete fool for having nerves about an Alpha. Especially an Alpha who couldn't, reasonably, be as dangerous as the others. Though, she thought, danger didn't always have to be in the form of getting cornered in dark hallways. Danger was all sorts of things and from the way he had looked at her, with an emotion she couldn't seem to pin down...

_Hope?_

She swallowed hard. If the Alphas were coming to Lady Hayworth with a plea like this, then that must have meant that Swophill knew about Hannah. That he was expecting her to be able to help him in a way that she wasn't sure was possible. He had resolved to remain unmated but now, with _her_ , he might have been counting his chickens long before they had even begun laying. There had been too much hope in his eyes. There had been a desperation when she had gotten up to leave. Sure, yes, she had thought about a solution just before she'd stood—that getting him a mate was a matter for _Lady Hayworth_. But herself? With her inexperience? It was, for all intents and purposes, _dangerous_.

“Indeed, he is coming,” the Omega nearly sang. “He's such a quiet Alpha but I'm sure you'll get him to open up. From what I heard, he used to be such a fine specimen. His whole family came down sick when he was sixteen and he was the only one of them to be so unfortunate as to lose the use of his legs, poor dear.” The tea tray was brought in and Lady Hayworth was keen for a cup, sipping it between her gossip. “His family is such a wonder, it seems. His father is quite a stern man though remarkably kind to his children. Once his eldest, the former heir, spent all of his money and couldn't seem to keep it long enough to make himself useful, his father sought to curb his habits and his vices. When it didn't work, he _disinherited_ him. Hence why the man went mad and followed that poor Lanchester girl all the way to America to try to mate her. His father told him that he had to make an advantageous match or he would never see the inside of their estate again.”

“Oh dear,” Hannah marveled, munching on one of the scones from the tray. “He must have been awful for that to happen.”

“The worst. Even the prospect that Mrs. Lanchester could have been so duped by him...it's incredible. I hadn't any idea that it was that bad before all of that business with the Duke's son getting himself bitten and all...”

Hannah nodded morosely, “The poor little fellow. I've met him and he's such a wonderful dear. A bit skittish but who wouldn't be?”

“Indeed!” Lady Hayworth agreed. “Aside from all that, I assure you that _this_ Mr. Swophill cannot go chasing after any Omegas by himself and likely will never find himself walking again. That's not to say he isn't a _fine_ catch. The gentlemen have assured me, _and reassured me_ , that he is in _working order_.”

If Hannah's cheeks had drained any of the blood that had filled them earlier, it was for naught. They were entirely saturated now. Though her sisters may have said a few lewd things now and again, this was the first time that she could remember ever having been privy to such a comment from a member of the haut ton. She was probably scarlet by the time Lady Hayworth was off chattering about her next set of thoughts.

“Oh my girl,” the Omega laughed, noticing how red her cheeks were. “You are going to be such the blushing bride, aren't you? I can't wait until you get married. I certainly hope to be sitting right up at the front so I can watch you have your first kiss.”

Hannah found an indignant smile. “How do you know it will be my first? How do you know I won't be kissed in a garden?”

“You're more likely to be kissed in a _library_.”

She _was_ a bookworm, that was for certain, she thought. Even the thought of being stolen away so that some _Alpha_ could push his nose against the side of her throat—that is, if he wanted to, she wasn't certain it was necessary—or _kiss_ her gently upon the lips...it was enough to make her swallow past the slight swollen feeling in her throat. How in the world would she possibly react to a man with his hands on her? So close to her? Pressed up against her...

“Oh dear,” she muttered, flustered. Lady Hayworth held out her fan and Hannah took it, flipping it open and fluttering it over her neck. “I can't even think about it without getting all bothered.”

“Who _can_?” She stood up when Hannah gave her the fan back. “Now dear, I've got to go. Take this invitation and make certain you come tomorrow night. Mr. Swophill will be there and so will Samwell. In fact, there shall be a few Alphas you could make eyes at while we're there and plenty of Omegas to _victimize_. It's going to be such a lovely time. I promise.” With that, she whisked away and was out the door in a whirl of color, the glimmering giddiness in her scent slowly fading with her absence.

Quinn appeared at the doorway and gave Hannah a blank stare. Her voice, low after her presentation, sounded flatly amused. “That woman is a _menace_.”

* * *

“It's a _garden party_ , Burton,” Miles protested in his low hiss while the valet wheeled him down the hallway of Lord Britton's town manor. “That means everyone will be strolling about _the garden_. I can't go down the stairs because I can't get back _up_ the stairs.”

Burton sighed through his nose, the small breath puffing at the hair on the back of Miles's head. “Well what do you want me to do, sir? Leave you on the terrace?”

“It's better than having anyone see me get carried in. So yes. That's what I want.” He felt stupid and petulant and maybe that's what he was, but there was no way he was going to allow anyone to see him face such an indignity. Even if he had a chair with the large wheels on the back, he would have had to leave himself on the terrace and it was as good a place as any to be what he always was anyway at these kinds of events: _alone_. Aside, he would have a good vantage point in order to see all the couples strolling about and at least this way he could make up what he thought they were saying to each other. It would be a decent exercise for his imagination if nothing else and maybe the hostess would deign to chat with him for a few minutes. When they came out on the terrace, he found that there were already some guests milling about and _thank goodness_ they hadn't been around when he'd first been carried in. “Leave me here, Burton, please.”

“As you wish, sir.”

The Beta left him just near the stone railing near the stairs and he sat back, making the attempt to relax when Lord Britton came up to speak to him.

“Swophill! It's good to see you again. I can have my men—”

“No thank you,” he smiled. “Garden paths aren't good for my wheels anyhow. I'd much rather stay here and wait for dinner to be ready. The weather is abnormally nice, none of that nipping wind that sometimes comes on these overcast days. To be honest, I've managed to smuggle a book under my blanket.”

The older Alpha grinned, his bushy gray brows softening. “A happy man is a prepared one. I wish I could get away with reading through one of these events, but I'm certain the Countess would have my head for it. A good husband is a good host, she says.”

“I suppose she must be right,” Miles replied.

“She always is. Let one of the servants know if you need anything, Swophill, they'll be happy to help you.”

He nodded and the man left him in peace, tapping down the stairs again with light steps until he was again mingling with the rest of the guests. By his count, there were quite a few Omegas, easily recognizable from the colors of their dresses, and a few Alphas. They were not of numbers that could break off into smaller segments quite yet and thus were mostly all grouped about in one mass. There were no female Betas as yet and the side of his mouth quirked downward. He would look for her wherever he was for the rest of the season, it seemed.

A light and airy little voice sounded from beside him and he nearly jumped when he found a pretty little Omega addressing him.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Swophill.”

“G-Good afternoon,” he tried, watching her curtsy politely. “Pardon. Have we met?”

The girl's eyes were a brilliant shining blue and her hair was short—much too short to be prudent for a debutante. Her gown was a brilliant cobalt with a matching heavy shawl and her scent was only a hint of sweetness disguised underneath a strong Alpha fragrance. She was married.

_Married. Pretty. No. Beautiful. Hair the color of sunshine and eyes a delicate cornflower._

He swallowed hard, “Dear me,” he murmured, putting out his hand. “Miss Lanchester...or... _my Lady_ , I should say.”

She gently put her fingers into his hand and he could feel the warmth of her through their gloves. He very softly squeezed her fingers and tilted his head to simulate a bow. She was so short that even as he sat in his chair, she was nearly his height. Her voice was delicate. “I'm grateful to have the chance to meet you, sir. I've heard much about you.”

“And I you,” he provided. “I cannot tell you how utterly ashamed I am of how things happened...”

“Naught to do with _you_ , Mr. Swophill.”

“And yet everything to do with my name. We have been thoroughly disgraced, my Lady.”

She squeezed his fingers back in her tiny hand and smiled graciously at him. “You are not your brother. I hope this season, you will consider our invitation to dinner?”

“Of course,” he replied with earnest, his gaze caught by the Alpha that approached beside the former Miss Lanchester, her wife and the regal Marquess and Captain. “I should be honored to accept any invitation you wish to bestow upon me if I could have some chance to make things right between our families.”

“Worry not,” the Marchioness quipped. “Your invitation will be forthcoming. We shall see you there.”

“Thank you, my Lady.” He felt her give his hand another small squeeze before she let him go and drifted before her wife as if she walked upon a cloud down the stone steps into the garden. He sighed, his heart tangled in a bunch of nerves and static. For all the damage his brother had done for their family's reputation, he didn't seem to be suffering for it. Perhaps it was the chair. Enough pity could do that for a man, he supposed. Of course, an interaction that was so nerve-wracking would _have_ to be followed by something even worse—that was merely the luck of Miles Swophill.

“Hello, Mr. Swophill,” came a hauntingly familiar voice and he turned his head again to find Lady Hayworth standing off to his side. “A beautiful day for a garden party, is it not?”

He felt his lips trembling. This was the woman who was going to get him a wife. This was the woman who had sent him the most gorgeous and confident Beta girl he'd ever met in his life and had done so only at the prodding of a few wagering Alphas. She had been the one to know exactly what an Alpha like him could have wanted even before he had even imagined the notion. There were only two kinds of beings who could know a man's heart before he himself: an angel, or the devil. He swallowed hard against the growing lump in his throat. If he said the wrong thing to her, Hannah would be gone forever, lost from his grasp and sent adrift to the other Alphas—and no doubt it was an Alpha who would have her.

“I've barely said a word to you, Mr. Swophill, what in the world could have you so anxious?” She gave a polite little cough and flipped out her fan to flutter his scent away from her nose. “I daresay you _reek_ of nervousness.”

“I...I apologize, my Lady. It is simply that I know of your involvement in Asterly and Halwill's wager and I...I am...”

“Thoughtful of your future? If you would rather I not venture to set you on a course to matrimony, I certainly will cease all assistance.”

He snapped his head toward her. “ _No!_ ”

She paused, her shoulders tightening and her smile freezing with the edge of his _Alpha_ tone.

“I'm sorry,” he breathed. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it... I don't want you to stop, please. I'm not...I'm not well-versed in romance and I cannot dance. I appreciate your efforts for they are the only course I have and...I _would_ like a wife. I had only thought that it was impossible. For me. Because of—” He shook his head, closing his eyes and feeling his expression tighten into a strange kind of pain. “Reasons.”

She slowly fanned herself again, her body unsticking from its frozen state in measures over a short span of time until she was able to respond. “Do not worry yourself, Mr. Swophill. All I require from you is natural charm. Any woman I send you will be able to spot your faults and will not hesitate to toss you to the streets if you wrong her. Do not fret. If you are decent husband material, you've nothing to fear.”

He nodded, still overly nervous. “And...and Miss Idlewind...”

“What of her?” she asked, her voice almost too high-pitched, as if she were pretending not to know anything about the girl.

“She has not...decided against...”

“I'm sure I don't have the foggiest idea to what you're referring.” She smiled at him and gave him a polite curtsy. “We will chat soon, Mr. Swophill.”

It didn't matter to him that she was lying. The Omegas were often selective in who they let into their circles and Alphas nearly never ranked well enough to breach their veils of secrecy. The whole game of it was to keep anyone from knowing anything of importance until the _exact_ time that it was required to be known. There was some kind of fascination these ladies had with keeping things from the involved parties until everything could fall together how they wanted it. All Miles had to concern himself with was remaining patient enough and faithful enough to believe that everything was going to turn out alright in the end—that he was going to one day manage to press his nose against the satin flesh behind Miss Idlewind's ear and whisper to her how devastatingly exquisite she was.

He had _never_ before even considered that a Beta girl could fascinate him so. When he'd been a boy, it had always been a given that one day he would come to London and sift through the pretty debutantes who clustered in the corners—the Omegas. They were ethereal little creatures he'd thought would make him happy. Even before he had presented, he had thought himself destined to be an Alpha and of course, destined to hold one of the tiny creatures that spent so much time trying to coyly avoid being kissed or captured. When he had lost his ability to walk, he had kept hope for only so long before it sank in that he would never dance again, and that the whimsical fairies of the ballrooms would have little patience for a man who could not bow and pose and stroll with them in gardens. Without the prospect of an Omega, he had relinquished his hold over the dream to be married and mated and had determined that it was unfair to himself to even hope for such a thing.

Of course, one can always tell the brain that it was useless to hope, but to tell the heart was another matter and a challenging one at that. A Beta girl had never crossed into the realm of possible despite always having been a legitimate option, certainly. But Betas married Betas—at least, that was the norm. There were some who managed to marry Alphas, but it wasn't commonplace and it wasn't what he _expected_ for himself. Yet here he was, staring out over a garden party in the mid afternoon and hoping he might see her strolling about in a brilliant hue with sensible feathers in her auburn hair and glittering gems around her throat. In his mind, she was as elegant and graceful as a swan, her steps certain and her smile one that could force sunshine over the rainy English capital. Every cold moment of self-doubt seemed to wash away when he thought of how she had looked at him with mischief in her eyes while she glowed in the firelight, a book in her hands and a cutting retort just barely hidden behind her lips.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Swophill,” came that luxuriously supple voice, and for a moment, he thought he was dreaming it. He could see her mouth below her finely crafted mask in his daydream form the words and he dazedly smiled to himself before he realized that the sound was from _this_ reality—here and now. He felt his heart leap when he turned his head to find her politely standing to the side of him, looking down at him from her full height with her hands clasped gently in front of her.

“Muh-Miss Idlewind!” he stammered, completely enraptured suddenly by the whole of her. She was perfect in the soft light of the overcast afternoon, with soft lines and a becoming grace. Without her mask, he thought he might have been fantasizing about the lightest possible freckles over the bridge of her nose—ones that perhaps she hadn't grown out of. She was every bit as beautiful as he'd thought she would be and perhaps even more so.

_Oh god. Oh she's captured me. How am I going to survive this season?_

She looked at him thoughtfully and with the glint of amusement in her expression, he realized quickly that he had said her name and nothing else, leaving a profoundly awkward pause in which he was simply staring at her without comment.

“I-I...I apologize, Miss Idlewind,” he managed, “The other night, I was prevented from becoming speechless at your feet, though today, it seems, I am at your mercy.”

The side of her mouth curled upwards while she watched her Aunt hobble down the stairs, just out of earshot. When she looked back at him, she raised a brow. “And here I thought you wouldn't be so bold as to mention how wicked I was the other night when I had you all alone.”

“You?” he grinned, “Wicked? Never. Only the pinnacle of propriety. Should I have been in danger of being compromised by you, I should have fought you tooth and nail. My reputation, after all, would have been at stake.”

“Surely you would have had someone come to your rescue.” In a puzzling gesture, she looked around the garden from the terrace, the two of them out of the way but, as he followed her gaze, finding that several of the little clumps of Omegas were casting glances toward them. She frowned just so slightly and then leaned down, closer than was probably proper, and whispered softly, the sound of her breathy voice in his ear sending a shiver through his whole spine. “ _Perhaps I will have to bring them out of their slumber to fight for you._ ”

When she stood up again, he made a small gulp and hoped she hadn't noticed it. Having her so close to him brought on such a rush of excitement that he had held his breath and he actively cursed himself in that moment for having inadvertently done so. It had been his opportunity to take in that sultry, calming Beta fragrance and he had _missed his chance_. If only he could bring her down to him again. If only he could stop time and go back. If only. If only. _If only_. His heart began thumping in a panicked cadence when he thought for a moment that she might wander down the steps and he straightened in his seat with his concern.

“I-I d-don't suppose you might be able to do me a great favor, Miss Idlewind?”

“Of course.”

“Might you catch the attention of one of the staff so that I could request a drink?”

“I will simply fetch one for you myself, Mr. Swophill. It's no trouble.”

“Well...alright.” He watched her go, anxiously hoping that she wouldn't be caught on her way to the refreshment table by any wandering women with a mind for chatting. Without her, he tried to calm himself, taking deep breaths of the questionable London air. He had to get himself entirely under control or he would never be able to charm her like he hoped and, he thought decidedly, he _would_ charm her when she came back to him. Her deep green dress was easily recognizable as she swished by the pastel-colored girls on her way to the table and when she had gotten what she wanted and turned about, she could only take a few steps before she was stopped short and Miles's heart suddenly burned with his ire.

She was so bold. So beautiful. It was bound to happen, he thought with no small amount of gloominess. She was so much _more_ than the rest of them and of course there she was being stopped and charmed by a man Miles had no chance to best in any regard.

Of course, he bemoaned. Of course she would be waylaid by an _Alpha_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why am I always cutting it right down to the wire right before work?
> 
> Poor Miles.


	7. Chapter 7

“Miss Idlewind,” Mr. Topeland greeted, giving her a small bow. “It's terribly good to see you here. I wasn't aware you were familiar with Lady Britton, though I am glad you came. I was wondering if you might do me a small favor.” His expressive brown eyes flitted to the side to only just brush the profiles of several indignant little Omegas who were just far enough away to be out of earshot and who were staring at Hannah with murder in mind. First, they had watched her whisper into Swophill's ear and now she was chatting with a _perfectly suitable_ Alpha gentleman.

“A favor for you?” she asked coyly, looking down at the glass of punch in her hand and reminding herself not to spend too long away from Swophill. She could manage a moment or two but she was not about to miss her chance to speak with him again. If she was to get the Omegas interested in him, it was imperative that it look like they were missing chances.

“Yes. You see, this may see very untoward and terribly forward but...may we take a stroll?”

“Oh dear, I've only just gotten this glass for Mr. Swophill. Perhaps after dinner, if the weather holds and the garden is lit, my chaperone won't mind coming out for a small bit? That is...if you can pry me away.”

His face lit and he smiled and gave her a nod. “I will try to do so, Miss Idlewind. I will do my best. Thank you.”

His gratitude was nearly unnerving and she tried to squeeze it out of her mind while she gave him a quick curtsy and left him, climbing the stairs again to find Swophill looking _terrifically_ glad to see her again. She smiled at him and handed him the punch.

“Thank you, Miss Idlewind. And...thank you for coming back.”

She jerked, startled by the sentiment. “Of course I came back...” Bewilderment set in and she frowned, curious. “Why wouldn't I?”

His mouth was straight across at first and he wasn't looking at her. Some vestige of an old pain seemed to be clouding through his eyes while he sat there silent for those quick moments. “I hadn't meant to imply that you were anything like the...” He lifted his gaze again to the girls down in the garden who were clustering even closer together and tightening their woolen shawls about their shoulders. The wind wasn't particularly _cold_ though there was a hint in the low-hanging clouds that their brief bit of warmth was going to come to an end soon. Hannah wouldn't be surprised if they woke on the morrow with a heavy blanket of snow over all of London.

“Like the Omegas?” she asked lightly. “Do they often leave you and never come back?”

“I've not been to many parties but those that my father had held...yes. My brothers used to leave them with me in the hopes that I might speak with them. They did not stay long.”

A sudden pang came through her heart and she wondered, really wondered, how many times this man had been so casually rejected by one of those fickle little creatures without a second thought. How many times the poor man wasn't even given a chance to let his light shine. “Perhaps they are more focused upon a dance of feet rather than a dance of minds,” she suggested. “I say, you are as good as any I've come across in the latter.”

“Do you think so?” he asked, looking down into his glass.

“You make me laugh and I do like that about you.”

He smiled. “It is good to know that it is my humor that brings you back to me. I will strive to continue the tireless work if it shall keep you from a cold disappearance.”

She looked around and spotted one of the chairs on the terrace that had been brought out of storage just for this occasion and she brought it over, setting herself down upon it and noting Swophill's raised brows, his expression that of mild awe.

“You do not have to feel obligated to me, Miss Idlewind, I did not mean to impress upon you some kind of guilt.”

“I don't feel guilty, Mr. Swophill. I feel rather pleasant, actually. I don't even have a shawl today. Lady Britton must have thrown this little party together at the very last to take advantage of this warm bit of weather. Imagine. Tomorrow, we could have a blizzard.”

It was not what he was expecting and well she knew it. The poor man, light-hearted as he had seemed the other night, was haunted by the specter of his past interactions with the spirited little pixies who couldn't seem to give him a second glance. They would after today, certainly, she thought with a small spark of anticipation. Perhaps, with her efforts, they would begin to actually speak to him. Perhaps they would begin to realize that he was a perfectly capable Alpha. That was, if he could manage to quit looking so desperate in between his wicked grins.

“Perhaps if you were witty with them as you are with me,” she mused. “They do love to laugh as well. If you collect them into a group and you make one of them laugh, it is almost a given that the rest of them will laugh as well. Did you know that, Mr. Swophill? Their laughter is contagious.”

“Is it?” he asked.

“It is. It's almost scientific. Surely there have been papers written on the subject. Even if another Omega hasn't any idea what the laughter is for, they will still laugh. They are such silly creatures and they are very loving of wit and fun. Like little mischievous elves, I think.” She smiled at the angered little cluster. They had been smaller groups of twos or threes and now they were all together in one made up of a paltry sum of them despite the threat of Alphas being minimal. The cluster formation was normally to stave off a multi-sided attack. This time, she was certain that their relent toward their baser instincts was purely due to her meddling. First Swophill, then Topeland, and now they were keeping their watch to see what else she was going to do. Unfortunately for them, she was going to be keeping a hand in every pot.

_But mostly in Swophill's._

“Fascinating...” he muttered. “You know...I'm curious about...well about you.”

She quirked a brow. Why anyone would be curious about a Beta was beyond her ken. “About me? What in the world could you wish to know? I'm a Beta. We're inherently boring.”

“Inherently boring?” he replied incredulously. “Do you've any idea how many times my housekeeper gasped audibly while she read the papers this morning? She thought I couldn't hear her, I'm certain.”

Hannah's cheeks flushed and she felt her throat begin to constrict. She should have known that there were men who would read the papers. As much as she was hoping that Lady Hayworth's hand was tempering the damage of her indiscretions, she knew that the woman could only do so much. The redness must have been overt because he stumbled on.

“T-to be honest, Miss Idlewind, I in no way believe that they were fair to you. Though you must have been a dastardly character last night. After all, you did catch me all alone in the library and I likely escaped narrowly from a good, honest ravishing...that is, if you believe what the dear authors write in those rags.” He chuckled and she felt her throat loosen enough for her to take a deep breath. “The fact that you're here should be a testament to the resilience of Beta women. I imagine that if you managed to even just brush the edge of your skirts upon Mr. Samwell that Miss Bennington would throw herself upon him right in the midst of the party. I could use such entertainment...”

She couldn't help herself but to laugh and she picked up her fan to swat him, doing so lightly upon his arm. “Do _not!_ ” She settled back down in her chair, excited and not a little ashamed at herself for having hit a gentleman.

He was laughing heartily, his smile so bright and handsome that she had to focus herself upon readjusting her skirts so that she wasn't caught staring at him. For being trapped in such a terrible situation, his melancholy was masked underneath all that wit and humor though she did see it peek out from time to time. She was shocked, really, to hear from his very own lips that he was abandoned by most Omegas, the fact something that she was certain he might have withheld from others who pried. His words were still filled with laughter when he continued.

“You've certainly turned the ton upon its head in a single night, no doubt. They are convinced you are either an Alpha in disguise or some demonic presence inhabiting the body of some poor girl. Of course, the men must be simply enraptured by all that boldness.” He seemed as if he wished to go on with the statement but closed his mouth, ending it there.

“I don't know if 'enraptured' is quite the correct term for it.”

“You don't think so? Where does all this boldness come from, anyway? And how could you ever think yourself boring?”

She let a shoulder lift. “That's what we've always been told. We're boring. We don't have any passion behind closed doors and we certainly don't _romance_.”

“I beg pardon?” he laughed. “By the sounds of things, you've practically written the book on _romance_.”

“Hardly,” she scoffed. “As far as those papers go, I'm a temptress and a succubus. As far as reality goes, I'm a novice at best. I know the barest basics about how to go about seduction and in any matter, I'm not _attempting_ to do so. Don't look at me, all this lewdness is making my face all ruddy.”

“I apologize. This _is_ rather uncivilized discussion for a garden party, but then again...who throws a garden party before the flowers are bloomed?”

She giggled and covered her mouth with her hand to stop herself from laughing hard enough to attract the attention of their hostess. When she thought she was contained, she held her hand to her mouth to hide her lips and she murmured to him, “A woman who has spent plenty enough time _inside_ this winter and would rather look at muddy green than another Persian rug.”

“Ah. I see.” He nodded studiously. “It's put me in a devil of a state. Winter is the most hideous and ugly season. If it's not snow, it's dirt and mud and it mucks up my wheels.” He sighed through his nose. “If it were up to me, and certainly my housekeeper, winter could go right to the devil.”

She was still giggling. “I don't like the cold but the snow, I shall keep. I rather enjoy looking at it. In the country, it is beautiful. And when you ride through it—” she stopped short, clearing her throat. “Oh...I...”

“It's alright,” he urged, “Please. Tell me about it. If I cannot do it, I should at least like to see it through your eyes.”

It did seem rather silly that she should feel guilty about her own manner of living simply because of his state so she nodded and continued. “When you ride through it...I have a very steadfast pony, you see, and the snow comes up in powder around her when she prances. It is a wonder to laugh with her while she cuts through the freshly coated fields. The air is so cold, it is like there is no scent at all and it is as though one could smell the very crispness of winter. I suppose you do not spend much time outside when it is cold?”

“No. It is just that it is so easy for me to get a chill and it is difficult for my...my...” He picked at the blanket over his knees. “I spend a lot of time in the library and I might have read nearly every book there. Poetry, novels, the drivel they write about architecture these days. Everything. I do wish that I could have more books to read sometimes. All of the books at our London manor have been cycled out with the main library at the estate and I've found that I've read nearly all of them already. I tried to get the housekeeper to lend me her novels but she tells me they're not to a gentleman's taste...whatever that means.”

“I'm certain that if you were to come by for a visit, Drew would most certainly allow you to borrow some of our books if you'd like.”

“Drew?”

Hannah nodded, “The Earl, I mean. My sister. We've plenty of books and I'm certain we could spare some so you might have a chance to not be so bored. I know how it feels to constantly have to go out and find some more or be trapped reading the same books over and over again. Our library is quite large and I'm certain you'd be able to find something interesting to read.” She smiled at him and felt a tight ping in the back of her head while her thoughts plagued her. _Inviting him to call?! What sort of path are you opening, Hannah?!_

“Oh,” he breathed, his scent lightening into shades of surprise and joy. “You...you wouldn't mind my calling?”

“No,” she replied truthfully. It was as much a shock to her as to him, she thought. Actually, she wouldn't mind at all, and in fact, she was suddenly hoping that he _would_ call upon her.

_There's something about him. I can't quite put my finger on it. He's...gentle._

It was a thought that didn't usually strike her when she thought of Alphas or saw the way they danced or walked. They had a strut about them that was inherently powerful and demanded respect. They loomed like predators and held a potential in their bodies and minds for taking exactly what they wanted at the very moment they wanted it. They were like bulls. Huge. Heavy. Strong. Relentless. They chose their prey and they pursued until their quarry was gasping for breath, heaving upon the ground and begging their surrender.

Miles Swophill was gentle. He did not hold the same overt confidence that able Alphas did and in fact seemed the perfect example of an Alpha who was modest and humble—two words that had never before in her mind been used to describe any Alpha she'd ever met. It could come as no great surprise then that he might find it difficult to snag an Omega as a mate. As fearful as the little beings seemed, they thrived on the chase and the passion and romance of being _caught_ by the most deserving of Alphas.

They chatted for a little while about what sort of books the town manor had lining the shelves and then were ushered in for dinner, Swophill's valet, Burton, giving her a very polite bow before he wheeled his master into the dining room where he was sat next to her. That was perfectly fine, she thought. She was finding him rather enjoyable, if she dared to venture the suggestion, and she found herself quite interested in the books he mentioned and the authors he'd enjoyed. It turned out that the two of them had read the works of many of the same authors and it was these books and novels that took up most of their dinner conversation. She had nearly forgotten that the rest of the dinner was happening around them until it was time for the ladies, that was, the Beta ladies and the Omegas, to depart for the drawing room.

It was only for a short while, she told herself as she left him and moved with the rest of the girls, her form towering above them while they walked stiffly in front of her, casting her callous glances as she followed and pretended not to notice them. After their brandy and cigars were over with, she would be free to let him chat with her again if he felt the urge and, hopefully, he would. She did need him to show an interest in her or what he really wanted couldn't happen. The Omegas had to find her a threat somehow. They had to wallow in their displeasure at her meddling enough to pay him some attention.

_They had better not disappoint him. He's such a kind man..._

She lingered by the window for a time, gazing out at the lamps in the garden that were lit and glowing warm in the cold night. It was only too obvious that the warmth of the odd January day had fled in favor of a growing, bitter chill. It was too dark to see the ominous low-hanging clouds but the oppressive black sky through the window of the parlor was enough to let her know that they were still there, fat with moisture and threatening snow.

A warmth came behind her and the scent of a strong _Alpha_ enveloped her. When she turned, she was not surprised to find Mr. Topeland with an awkward though eager smile, a silent plea for her to accompany him to the garden with her chaperone. He held out his hand and she studied him for a moment before she cut her eyes away to the Omegas strewn about the room, catching each of their attentions before she tentatively placed her fingers upon his glove.

“Don't worry yourself, Ellen,” Lady Hayworth breathed. “I'll go with her on a stroll, if that's what Mr. Topeland has in mind.”

“It is...if you are agreeable to it,” he said to Hannah, his scent betraying his happiness when she nodded.

She tried not to look at Swophill as she waited for her heavy woolen shawl to be fetched but it was impossible not to feel his gaze upon her, his expression mildly forlorn as he was left sitting next to an empty chair.

There was a slight breeze in the garden and she pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders while she walked with Mr. Topeland, Lady Hayworth tagging along behind them far enough that she could likely still hear them but she was not at all in the way. The night was an inky black with a strange haze that lifted from the ground as the warmth fled from the earth and the cold once again descended. The slight mist whirled about her skirts as they leisurely strolled.

“I suppose,” Topeland began, “That I should tell you that I have designs upon a very delectable little morsel.”

“I assumed as much,” she replied, withholding her smirk.

“Miss Quillin is very much to my tastes and my mother...well...she had suggested to me that you might be of some assistance and that I should approach you rather directly about it as opposed to trying to finagle it myself.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his head. “We Alphas do tend to bungle things we try to do for love...”

She giggled through her nose. “Does she know of your affections?”

“Well...yes. I have managed to rather...bungle it already.”

“How is that?”

He sighed, embarrassment soaking into his scent. “I sent her a note after we danced the first time and she seemed warm to it and even sent me back a note. When I saw her again, we chatted for a while and the next day, I sent her flowers. I suppose perhaps I was heavy with my wording in the note that time and I fear I spooked her for this past ball, she was quite aloof and it seemed that she was afraid to dance with me. I didn't force it though I did keep my eye upon her and it didn't seem like she had any other suitors in mind...” He sighed again. “I must have frightened her somehow...and to think, I was so close to being able to give her my scent...”

Hannah turned her head slightly to look back at Lady Hayworth and asked quietly, “Thoughts, my Lady?”

“Only too simple,” she replied. “Miss Quillin is here tonight. A walk with the infamous Beta will be more than enough for the little Miss to realize just how green her eyes can be. You know what to do when we get back to the house, Miss Idlewind. Just one of those proud little glances to the girl and she'll be as good as engaged.”

Topeland perked. “Do you think so?”

Hannah nodded. “No doubt. They really will hate me by the time the night is through, which serves my purposes well, anyhow.”

“How is that?” the Alpha frowned.

“Just a few plots I have up my sleeves,” she smiled. “Nothing to be concerned about, no doubt.”

He drew up. “Miss Idlewind, I daresay that every single Alpha who will rely on you for his mate will be concerned about how many parties from which you will eventually wind up excluded. In that number, I will also rank. I do not wish for anything untoward to happen to you merely because of some vitriolic Omega chit...pardon my language.”

She was grinning, her teeth chilled by the breeze. “You've no need for worry, Mr. Topeland. I won't let them thoroughly destroy me. I promise you, the end goal is to be married.”

“To an Alpha?” he asked curiously.

“To anyone, I suppose...though I have not yet met a suitable Beta.”

“And perhaps a suitable Alpha?”

For no reason in particular, she suddenly felt a warm sensation beginning in her chest and was reminded of the image of Mr. Swophill's devilish little smile in the firelight. She gave a tender laugh at the very thought of it, confused by its emergence as she flitted through all the other Alphas she had made contact with this season. There were few who had really caught her attentions and none who would find _her_ suitable. They were usually so intent on their pursuit of an Omega that they barely gave much thought to the Betas who eyed them for daring sets of dances. She lifted one shoulder in a reticent manner, hoping to dispel the tickling notion that perhaps there was _no_ man who would find her decent enough to marry. She _did_ want to marry, after all. It wasn't as though she were one of those girls who bucked the tradition—she _did_ wish for it. But _who?_

Topeland nodded with his mouth flat and serious. “Perhaps I can talk to my friends. I could—”

“Please don't go out of your way, Mr. Topeland, though the gesture is appreciated. It is only that I don't wish to be considered impetuous. I fear an Alpha may take advantage.”

“Ah.”

“Thank you. For your understanding.”

“Indeed, Miss Idlewind, and you as well. Thank you. For all that you've done for Samwell and for all that you're about to do for me. Not to mention that poor bastard, Swophill.”

She was quiet, her thoughts again turning to the mannerly Mr. Swophill but this time for purpose. She was still pondering how she might make him a match as they wandered back up the steps and into the house. She reluctantly gave up her shawl and reentered the drawing room with her fingers gently laid atop of Mr. Topeland's and with all the fearlessness of a true conqueror, she raised her lidded eyes to Miss Quillin to find the girl practically in apoplexy.

_Too simple. Just as Lady Hayworth had said._

She smiled fully at Topeland when he left near the fireplace to warm herself and she was pleased to find that Samwell had taken it upon himself to fetch her a sherry to chase away the cold. She made certain to have her fingers touch his and to cast only just the barest hint of a glance toward Miss Bennington to make absolutely certain that every pertinent girl in the room should know that _their_ Alphas were practically doting upon her. When she had given them both all of her gratitude, she very gradually made her way over to the empty chair beside Swophill, who she discovered was surreptitiously reading and taking great pains to avoid having to pay attention to anyone. Even her. She let him ignore her, sipping at her sherry and watching everyone else interact, their voices low and all of their chatter focused directly _away_ from what they really wanted to talk about—how this uppity Beta interloper was stepping on _everyone's_ toes.

Still, she thought while she tepidly glanced toward Swophill, she wanted to talk to him. Mostly, she wanted to reassure him.

_I'll find you a girl. She might not be perfect, but she'll take care of you. That's all I need from her. I just need to find a girl who will make you happy._


	8. Chapter 8

“If you hadn't been such an absolute brute late night, you wouldn't be having this quandary,” Burton scolded as he pushed Miles toward the chairmaker's shop. “She was there, I saw her, sitting right next to you and what did you do? You completely ignored her and read that damned book you brought with you as if this wasn't the ninth time you've read it.” He sighed, irate. “You're impossible. All of you Alphas are impossible, creating all of these messes for yourselves and then lamenting them later on!”

Miles felt heat in his heart, in his throat, and mostly in his palms as he reddened from his ire. He let himself be chastised, knowing full well that he had earned every drop of his valet's wrath. She had come back and had given him every opportunity to speak with her again but the matter was that he had been much too preoccupied with his damned thoughts that she was merely humoring him. She had gone for a stroll in the garden with another Alpha and for the love of it all, how was he supposed to compete with that? He couldn't _stroll_. He couldn't take a woman out and walk with her romantically by offering his arm and tilting his head to create that masculine charm. He was at a severe disadvantage and he knew it. Even as she had come back and sat next to him, it was impossible for him to speak to her without that damnable lump in this throat getting in the way—he was at a loss with her. She had the attentions of two much more capable Alphas, both Topeland and Samwell, and she was reveling in it. How could she possibly consider _him_ as a mate if she was able to attract such fine examples of men aside?

“I know what you're thinking,” Burton snapped, “and clearly you're looking at this the wrong way. She's obviously not the typical Beta and you should be glad for that. She's gone out of her way to invite you to call upon her and I'm not going to let you pass up the chance to chat with her again. If you want her to fall in love with you, you have to talk to her. Romance is something that is better with a base of friendship and you can't work out a friendship with a girl you _ignore_.”

Fortunately, Burton finished his scathing review of his performance the night before just before they had made their way into the chairmaker's shop and Miles was left in quiet awe of the samples set up in the small space. There were chairs of every design and all of them quite fashionable. He thought he even recognized some of the very poignant carved designs from some of the ton's libraries or parlors. Burton pushed him forward until the shop keeper could approach, his fingers together lightly before him while he first looked to Burton expectantly.

“My master is in need of a new chair. We were hoping to speak to the craftsman himself for something fitting to his requirements.”

The well-dressed Beta made a slight bow to Miles. “Of course. The name I shall announce?”

“Mr. Swophill, if you will,” Burton replied and they were left for a short time, the valet tapping his finger impatiently upon the handle at the back of Miles's chair. “I've heard only good things. If he is to refuse, which he will not, I have a few other options in mind.” Burton rifled in his shoulder bag to pull out some of the small parchment papers with a few of his sketches on them, holding them at the ready as the Alpha craftsman emerged from the back of the shop, his glasses perched atop his gray hair and his white apron dusty with wood shavings.

“Mr. Swophill,” he boomed with a friendly voice, “Just one look and I know just why you're here. Ah, and your valet already has ideas.”

“Yes,” Miles agreed. “Burton is quite proficient at sketching. Once I described what I should like, he set to work immediately. I don't know how he can conjure such things, my own sketching is limited to that which I can see with my eye. I am ever grateful to have him.”

“My son is the valet of a Baron and I will profess to my dying day that a good servant is worth more than money. Let's see these designs.” He took them and leafed through the pages, studying them without words in the cold winter light that was diffused by the windows. “I see that there are a few different placements for these larger wheels.” He very slightly bent at his waist to show Miles the drawings. “In this one, the larger wheels are toward the front, which, when you were to propel yourself forward would have you leaning forward. Though the design would be fairly typical for most, when you lean back, most of the weight would be focused upon this small wheel in the back. Neither of these are ideal, as your posture would suffer and most of the stress would form at the joint of the chair and this smaller wheel.”

“What do you suggest?” Miles asked, interested.

“We move the larger wheels to the back. This way, when you propel yourself forward, you may do so sitting up—a position much better suited to a gentleman. You wouldn't want to be bent forward every time you wished to move, even in the slightest.”

Miles hummed appreciatively. “You're quite experienced, it sounds like.”

The Alpha's smile under his bushy mustache was telling. “I have a grandson who was struck by a lorry when he was a boy. I've been making him chairs every time he grows out of one.”

“Then my valet truly has done a wonder in finding you. You've sound advice and I trust your judgment. I will still need Burton to push me at times...”

“We shall include handles,” he agreed, picking up his pen and scribbling down notes upon Burton's sketch. “Now, the wheels I shall have made will require the work of a man I've used many times in the past and I urge you to agree. To prevent breakage, I insist upon reinforcing the larger wheels with iron rings, such as those upon the larger wagons.”

Miles nodded. “Anything.”

“Alright. Now that the necessities are out of the way, how would you like it to look?”

By the time they were finished hashing out the most superficial of the details, Miles felt much more secure in his decision to come to London. Even if his romances utterly failed, at least now he would have a decent amount of autonomy. Burton would be free to move about and get more of his chores done if he knew he did not need to be constantly alert for the slightest of Miles's movements. Though he would not have the chair until a few weeks from now, he was excited to know that by the time the season was over, he was going to be wheeling himself through libraries and parlors and he would not necessarily have to depend upon the ladies to approach him.

“You know,” Burton quipped as he worked to move Miles into the carriage, “We're going to have to get you some practice in that thing once you get it. It wouldn't do to have you running over a poor debutante's feet because you've no bearing on where your edges are.”

He leaned heavily upon the Beta's arm and strained hard to move into his seat, finding himself more winded in the cold weather than in the warm. “You're right. But I'll have plenty of time to move about in it. The girls avoid me anyhow, I highly doubt any of them will be crowding close enough to have their toes crushed.”

“And Miss Idlewind?”

“I'll warn her.”

“Ah,” Burton replied, rolling his eyes while he moved to stow the chair upon the rack made for that purpose on the back of their carriage. When he had climbed into the warmth of the carriage and knocked to show they were ready, he settled in and sighed. “I hope you don't mind, I told Benny to take us to Netherfield's house in town.”

“You did what?” Miles asked, a stripe of nervousness slashing into his gut.

“Calm down. She told you it was alright to call and if she's not taking visitors then no matter. You won't even have to get out of the carriage, I'll simply ask the butler when he opens the door if she's taking callers and if she's not then we'll go.”

He stewed in a maelstrom of annoyance, letting his sticky scent sour in the tight space.

Burton's nose wrinkled. “You _are_ testy today, aren't you?”

“And you're rather meddling today. What's gotten into you?”

“I should say that _you've_ gotten into me. If you're going to tell me that you've found the girl you're going to marry, you'd best be prepared when I do everything in my power to make it so. I can do nearly anything for you, Mr. Swophill, but I cannot woo her for you, though I can bring about every opportunity for you to do so yourself.”

The carriage slowed to a stop and Miles sat back while Burton moved to get out. The white light of the day had slowly been dimming over the course of the morning and now it was beginning to dim even further with the darkness of those gray clouds that had not left since the afternoon before. The air had grown chilly and there had been frost upon the grass that morning. When Burton opened the carriage door to peek in and tell him the news, Miles was unsurprised to find that it had begun to snow, the fat white flakes falling in a lethargic pattern to the cobble.

“She's taking callers. Come on, let's get you inside. They keep it wonderfully warm.”

Miles wasn't sure if he should have been happy about it or not. On one hand, he did dearly wish to see the library that Netherfield had been hiding away in her town manor and on the other, he didn't want to have to explain to Miss Idlewind why he'd been so aloof the previous evening. That she had hurt his fragile Alpha ego was not quite the excuse he thought would go over well in a household of Betas. He covered his eyes when he was carried up the stairs by both Burton and the butler, keeping himself from having to see anyone watching the spectacle of the event, embarrassing as it was, and he didn't fully look upward until he'd been placed in a nearby parlor which had a roaring, happy fire and a tea tray already sitting to the side.

“Is someone else expected?” he asked the butler as the man turned around to leave.

“Miss Chastity always takes her tea in the front room around eleven o'clock, sir,” he said. “I shall tell Miss Hannah that you have been settled. She shall be with you shortly.”

Almost as soon as the man had left, a shorter version of Miss Idlewind—presumably one of the _other_ Miss Idlewinds and beyond that, presumably _Chastity_ Idlewind—emerged from the doorway and did not even give pause when she noticed him. “Don't mind me,” she babbled, “I'll just be a moment. I'll have another tray sent to the other room, it is just that the snow looks so much prettier out this window than the rest of them.” She curtsied daintily before she scurried to the window.

He twisted in his seat to watch her as she leaned upon the windowsill, her childish gaze caught by the thickening veil of flakes. “I do suppose it is quite lovely,” he mumbled while he looked at it and wondered if it might stop. He hadn't known anything of the weather for that day and though he didn't mind only a little bit of the stuff, he was going to be very much inconvenienced if he was to be pushed through too much of it. It had an insidious way about clumping over his shoes until it had soaked through his socks. There was nothing quite so mood-dampening than having your ankles soaked with ice water.

“You're Mr. Swophill?” she asked without looking at him.

“Yes.”

“Ah. I've read about you.”

“Read about me?” His heart sank. _Oh no._ “In the...society papers...”

“Yes.” She giggled. “You're one of Hannah's _victims_.”

Miles felt his lower lip tremble a little. “I don't mean to cause her trouble.”

“Please,” the girl sighed, turning about and resting against the windowsill. “If anything, _she's_ causing _all_ the trouble. Though I wouldn't mind seeing more of your kind around. It makes everything much more exciting for us.”

“Do you like excitement?” The Idlewinds were quite the curious bunch of Betas, he thought.

“Every girl likes excitement,” she told him decisively. “The only thing a girl likes better than excitement is a good nap afterward.”

He couldn't help but give out a good set of chuckles. “I daresay you might be right.”

“ _Chastity_ ,” Hannah snipped from the doorway. “You know you shouldn't be in a room with a gentleman caller alone.”

“He's not _my_ caller,” she quipped back, giving Miles a conspiratorial smirk. “He's _yours._ ”

Hannah's cheeks were a becoming shade of pink and she shook her head, obviously ruffled by the tease. “Good morning, Mr. Swophill. I do hope my sister hasn't been a burden upon you.”  She sought to distract herself by pouring him a cup of tea and handing it to him.

“No! No. She's been very polite, I assure you. It's no bother at all to be greeted by such a friendly young lady...that is...oh...” He felt himself grow warmer in his awkwardness. She was too damned pretty in the cold winter light, her skin a heavenly pale and her eyes bright. He was getting flustered merely by the presence of her and he managed to have his glance caught by Chastity as she eyed him suspiciously.

_Oh dash it. She knows. She suspects at least that I'm utterly infatuated with her sister. If she doesn't approve of me...if she doesn't consider me suitable...I'm as good as done for._

He sank into himself while he frowned down at the carpet and took a sip of his tea, infuriated to find that his hand was shaking enough to be noticeable. The sip couldn't end. He'd already made a fool of himself somehow and he was determined not to speak again until it was required of him to do so. Damn Burton for bringing him here and damn himself for having allowed it to happen! Now he was trapped and there was no way out and both of these girls were _staring at him._ His cup was empty and he stared into the bottom of it with such resolute horror that he thought he might simply die right then and there from embarrassment.

Hannah lifted her eyes to her sister. “Chastity, why don't you find Quinn and see if she might join you for tea in the upstairs parlor?”

The girl didn't speak but quit her leaning on the windowsill and gave Miles another curtsy, keeping her face deceptively blank while she did so and casting a bizarre little wink over her shoulder toward him while Hannah wasn't looking. He felt himself sink even further into himself, his shoulders so stiff he felt like he might eventually turn to stone.

“It's lovely to see you again, Mr. Swophill. Should you like some more tea?”

On one hand, he wanted another cup so that he could at least have something to do when he couldn't talk around the lump that was forming in this throat. On the other, he didn't want to have to visit the washroom too quickly into his visit. Such a thing was often a chore and though he could handle it by himself, it was often difficult to return in a timely manner. He took too long to decide.

“Mr. Swophill? Are you alright?”

“N-y-yes! I'm sorry.” He gritted his teeth hard and fought to close his eyes, setting the tea cup down upon a side table and realizing fully that he must look as if he was having some kind of horrible fit. He was, wasn't he? It was all crashing down around him and there was nothing that was going to save it. This horrible weight of all of this anxiety was squeezing him and _damn that blasted Beta for bringing him here!_ “I'm s-so sorr-ry...” he tried, stuttering out the words while his throat constricted. “I d-didn't a-actually mean t-to be here, muh-my valet...he...”

She was too close all of a sudden and it sounded as though her voice were coming from a thousand miles away. “ _May I touch you, Alpha?_ ”

“Yuh-you _shouldn't_ ,” he told her, his whole body rigid in an intense and heavy panic. His heart was pounding, beating in his chest as though it were to seek escape and he could hardly breathe for the squeezing of his throat. He pulled in rasping and shuddering breaths and cursed every moment he'd ever thought he could possibly find a mate or find himself happy in the slightest fashion.

The sound of her came to him, floating as if from the bottom of the ocean. “ _This time, I'm not asking. I'm telling. I'm going to touch you, Alpha._ ”

“N-n-n—” was all he could manage before he felt her cool hands on his, working to pry open his fingers from the fists he hadn't realized he'd made. When she was able to coax them apart with that tender touch, she smoothed over his palms with her own and then settled his still stiff hands down in his lap, her fingers moving to his face which made him suddenly suck in with a hard gasp, his mouth dropping open while his eyes fluttered.

“Shhh,” she insisted. “My sister, Quinn, goes through this sometimes. It's easily remedied. No cause for alarm.” The sides of her thumbs were pressing lightly into his temples and moving in slow, languorous circles that gradually snipped away the strings of his mystifying waking nightmare. Nevermind that it had been _her_ presence that had caused it, it seemed as though now the only thing that could keep it from consuming him was that soothing, wonderful touch and the lightness of her calming Beta scent that reached him even despite the burning presence of his own. He was trembling and he could hear his unsteady breath even over the thunder of his blood as it rushed past his ears. Her tone was still so terrifically consoling and he could feel the sharp sting of tears behind his eyes when she reassured him. “It's alright, Alpha. No need to be nervous. It must be terribly difficult to reason with such a willful valet. I'm told they can be quite stubborn when they wish to be. The Earl's valet, Wylie, is forever making the Omega maid blush and twitter about, bold as he is.” She babbled on, knowledgeable enough to know that her words could calm even the stormiest of seas. “I suppose boldness must be a trait one picks up from the Idlewind household rather than one passed down in blood. We do seem to foster such activity here that could be constituted as improper in other households. I suppose I am not the truest example of that, I think Drew would lead us for it since she did manage to roll around with her mate long before they were married...oh, but you didn't hear that from me.” She chuckled under her breath and it was enough for him to open his eyes and look at her where she stood before him, slightly bent over so that she could comfortably touch him and close enough that he could finally take in her deliriously beautiful—though infuriatingly mild—fragrance he'd missed before.

The panic threatened to rise again and he reached for the bells that hung on the arm of his chair only to be stopped by her staying hand. His voice sounded reedy and thin to his own ears and he hated it. “I've embarrassed myself, Miss Idlewind.”

“No, you haven't.”

“That is kind of you, but I've got to go.”

“Please stay. At least until you've seen the library.”

“You are too kind to me, Miss Idlewind, I've come into your home and made a c-complete sp-spectacle of myself and I should take it upon myself to insist that this is n-not normally how I react when in polite company.” He bowed his head despite himself, the back of his mind screaming at him that no Alpha should have ever _bowed his head in submission_ to any Beta. But still, he did it for her in spite of all that hideous pride that welled up and spat on him and told him that he'd been a fool. The only recourse he had was to retreat to his home and to his bed and pretend he had never seen her and hope that some merciful sleep would come to lift this horrible curse she had cast over him.

“Like any person, I give kindness where it is due.” Her hand was still over his, squeezing lightly to keep him from ringing his bell. “Will you please stay, Mr. Swophill?”

His lips were drawn back in a grimace and his brows were knitted tightly together when he closed his eyes and then nodded with his grinding whisper. “ _Y-Yes. If you wish it._ ”

“May I push you?”

“M-my valet...or...yes. Yes...”

She let go of his hand and moved around him. It was as though he were acutely aware of every movement her clothes could make and every shuffle of her skirts was amplified into his ears as his mind completely tuned into the motions of her body. Her hands, though only upon the handles of his chair, he could feel as though she touched _him_ instead and he felt the hair upon the back of his neck prickle with her closeness. Had her hair not been pulled back and left loose in rippling auburn curls, it was lengthy enough, no doubt, to brush against his neck and the backs of his ears. Oh, God, how he could imagine her hair in its beauteous, shining waves cascading as a dark and tempting waterfall just barely skimming over his skin.

He dampened the thoughts and brought his shaking hands to his thick wool blanket, wishing that he could pull it up and over his head to hide himself from her forever. What a horrible day. What a _horr_ _ible_ rotten situation he had found himself in. He was vacillating madly between his desire to be with her and his desperation to somehow escape and there could be no compromise between the two.

_I truly am a broken Alpha._

“Isn't it marvelous?” she asked, prompting him to open his eyes and look upward, soaking in the room as it was bathed in that white light from the huge multi-paned windows that reached the height of the ceiling on the northern face of the house. The snow was heavier and faster, building gradually over the garden and painting the landscape a pure and brilliant white that reflected all of the sparse sunlight and gave the illusion of brightness even in the midst of the storm. “I remember,” she continued, “when I was just a little pup coming in here and curling up with my mother. She used to read us Shakespeare and I hung on every word. It is always so warm in here too. Drew likes to keep it that way so that Valentine won't catch a chill.”

He swallowed hard. “A loving mate.”

“They were most certainly made for each other.” She placed him near to the fire. “Is this too close? Shall I move you elsewhere?”

“This is acceptable...thank you, Miss Idlewind.”

She moved around him and waved her hand to dismiss the sentiment. “I'll have the tea tray brought in for us. Meanwhile, I've got you trapped in here with me and though I told Olivia to come join us, it seems as if she is deliberately trying to rouse my ire this morning by leaving me improperly alone with you. I hope you don't mind the hideous scandal we'll cause should anyone find out.”

His courage was returning in increments as a broken ship returns to the shore in bits of driftwood. “I suppose that if I were to be embroiled in scandal, you should be the most acceptable of conspirators...”

“That's the spirit,” she grinned. “Now tell me, Mr. Swophill. Your poet of choice.”

“Simple enough,” he blurted, surprising himself with his candor, “Lord Byron.”

“Ah,” she raised her brows, a sparkle in her eyes, “It is then no wonder that you should not shy from a scandal and that you should project upon me a penchant for _romance_.” Her twittering laugh eased him and deep within himself, he found a tepid reclamation of his person. He felt the tips of his fingers with his thumbs, counting them as if to make certain they were all there and they were all _real_ and _tangible_ before he attempted to collect the rest of his shattered dignity. Miss Idlewind rang for the tea tray and moved about the room while he watched her, talking all the while. “It does not strike me at all strange that you should be fond of Lord Byron. Though you are quiet in company, you are certainly not without teeming thoughts and I'm of the mind that given the proper outlet, you would far surpass many an Alpha's ability to weave a compelling debate or tale. You're obviously _brimming_ with things to say, are you not, Mr. Swophill?”

The tea tray was rolled in by a portly little maid who paid him no mind as she poured him a cup and then left. He sipped from it, uncertain.

Miss Idlewind was undaunted by his quietude. “I imagine that you have plenty of time to sit back and think of a great many things and observe a great many people. Have you any experience in writing, Mr. Swophill?”

He stared at her while she poured herself a cup of tea and lifted it to sip, the play of both the warm light from the fire and the cold light from outside meshing over her features and giving her a strange, ethereal glow. “Writing...?” he asked ineptly.

“Yes. Writing. Stories. Fictions.”

He shook his head. “I'm afraid I don't have the imagination for something like that.”

“No? Well, that's alright, I've got plenty of imagination. Sometimes I look at people in ballrooms and I just have to wonder what it is about them that makes them...well _them._ ” She beamed. “Perhaps it's a silly, girlish trait, but curiosity abounds. Haven't you ever wondered what someone might be like? Perhaps your future mate. Have you ever wondered what sort of person you might want as a mate? What kind of attributes they might have?”

He almost dropped his tea. “Uh-um...I-I suppose I have.”

“And when you see her in your mind, what does she look like?” She sat near to him in one of the over-stuffed chairs, holding her tea close to her chest while her eyes twinkled with interest.

_She's wearing green to make the Omegas jealous and her beauty is beyond compare. Her joy is limitless even underneath her tumultuous emotions which crash and eddy over rippling sands. Every spoonful of her laughter threatens to break my heart into a thousand scattered shards that catch in the fickle winds and drift out into the open sea. She cares not for how melancholic I am and she has no fear of my body even in all of its brokenness. Her auburn hair flies loose from its pins and shines in the spring over verdant fields as her audacious battle pennon. She is fearless. She is heroic. She could face the devil and spit in his eye and it is just what she will do to my reserve, my hesitation. She is movement personified. Grace in human form. Sweetness gifted unto Earth from Heaven itself and I should feel so unworthy to hold her in my arms._

“Mr. Swophill?”

He blinked and opened his mouth, at a loss.

“Perhaps you have no preference to her looks? Ah,” she said, still smiling, “It must, then, be her mind that will capture you.”

“Of course,” he mumbled. “You forget that I had thought all hope for a mate was...futile.”

“Poppycock,” Miss Idlewind murmured. “That is not the conviction of an _Alpha_.”

He sighed at the laughter hidden behind her words and took a comforting sip of tea. “It has been a long time since I have lost the convictions of my gender. I confess, I had not the strongest of them at the first, regardless. I was much the coddled son and decidedly more soft-spoken than my brothers.”

“If you could believe it of me, I am the most soft-spoken of my sisters.”

He couldn't help himself from barking out a small incredulous chuff. “You?”

“You only find me long-winded because you yourself have not spoken nearly enough since I've convinced you to stay. You've left me to prattle on like a ninny and I'll be sure to punish you for it. Perhaps a rat from the ice house in your bed tonight will be enough of a threat to keep you from receding back into a somber mood.”

He laughed even as he frowned. “In my bed? How in the world do you think you'll be getting anywhere near my bedchamber in order to—”

_The snow!_

Miles whirled his head toward the window and then back to the Beta girl who was giving him a deeply amused sort of smirk while she tried to hide it behind her teacup. “You devious _viper._ ”

“A viper, again?” She laughed with so much ardor that she tossed her head back, baring her pretty throat as if she were an Omega seeking his attentions. “I guarantee you, I hadn't thought of it at the first but now I can't say I'm entirely disappointed to have trapped you here. My sisters are going to dote upon you, you know. Aside from that, you should befriend the Earl.” She stood up and poured herself another tea. “While you're here, you can ponder over what sort of mate you'd like. Maybe you can even write a poem about her. Of course, you'll have to read to me and my sisters from some of Lord Byron's works, I'm certain we have them.”

He felt the beginnings of a nervous flutter again but quashed it. “It is curious, Miss Idlewind. I cannot often tell if you are serious or if you tease me.”

“Maybe a little of both,” she suggested, raising one arched brow in a disquieting gesture.

He felt vexed though this time it was more of a muddled pleasant sensation.

“I hope you won't be too inconvenienced to stay with my family. I know we can be a bother sometimes but I was hoping that you might lend me some insight.”

“Into what?” he asked, picking at the unfamiliar maroon woolen blanket that would have to do for now. He missed his normal knitted one already and he wondered how in the world he was going to get this one to hold his scent the way that one did. Wool was notorious for rejecting scent, after all.

She bit her bottom lip and tilted her head to the side, clearly thinking about how she wanted to phrase it. “Well...into _Alphas_ , I suppose.”

“You want...advice? From me?”

“You're an Alpha,” she informed him, “You know more about them than I do. I surely can't spend _all_ of my season flitting around and having fun, can I? Some of it must be work. If I'm eventually to be married, I'll need to know more than I do now and...forgive me, Mr. Swophill, but you are so terribly kind. I shouldn't wish to burden you with it if it shall be a...a problem...” She turned her head away from the firelight and he couldn't see the flush over her cheeks though he knew it was there. “Sometimes,” she continued, her voice softer and holding a forlorn note that set his heart in a vice, “...sometimes I think it shall take a love potion to make a man even look at me as if he could marry me.”

This was one of those times that Miles was certain that it was better that he wasn't able to stand up. He might have gotten up and _truly_ compromised her. That was, after he shook her for her absolute madness. “No...” he blurted softly into the quiet room. “That's...”

She turned her eyes to him and smiled again, “That's why I have you, right Mr. Swophill?”

_Sh_ _e wants me to help her find...someone else._ His heart hurt as some profound and unknowable emptiness tugged at his spirit.

“Yes...” he breathed. “I suppose it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update all the way across the sky.
> 
> If you want to chat more about this story or any others, make sure to come by my Tumblr at [J.D. Writes](https://jdwrites.tumblr.com/). Come talk about fiction, characters, or Omegaverse. Otherwise, feel free to leave a comment below.


	9. Chapter 9

Burton's voice was straining with his exertion as he held Miles up for his exercises but he insisted on talking through it anyway. Normally, he had a set of wooden beams that his father had commissioned for him that he would hold himself up with and walk by mostly supporting his weight with his arms. It had taken him years to get to the point where he could do it and it was only through nightly practice that he kept gradually bettering his ability to do it. It was really the only reason that, if faced with a dire emergency, Miles _could_ actually use his _Alpha_ strength to get up and at the very least stumble. Here, in an unfamiliar house, he was limited in his ability to exercise normally and so Burton had to support him as he crossed the room several times.

The valet glanced behind him again despite having moved every bit of furniture out of the way beforehand. “You know,” he managed, “She's doing you...a bit of a...favor.”

“A favor?” he ground out through his gritted teeth, trying to refocus from the ache in his legs.

“Yes. She's...creating the groundwork for a...friendship.”

“I don't _want_ a friendship. I...want...to marry...her.” His steps were clumsier than they usually were but, he conceded, he wasn't normally using his valet as a crutch. “She's asking for...my help...to find a _husband._ ”

“Which is the perfect opportunity...” he adjusted himself in Miles's grip, “...to suggest...yourself.”

“I can't simply _suggest myself._ ” He looked at the bed and felt sweat starting to trickle down the back of his neck. They'd crossed the room at least four times. It had to be enough or he was going to break the poor man. “The bed, Burton. I can't.” When he was set down on the edge, he leaned back and supported himself with his arms while Burton took to rubbing over those sore muscles. “She's not looking for someone like me. Whichever one of those Alphas bet on my becoming mated soon, they're going to lose. Even the Beta girl doesn't want to be with me.”

“ _Even_ the Beta girl?” Burton glared up at him.

He put his hand up over his eyes and hissed against the pain of Burton's thumbs pressing into his muscles without mercy.

_I deserve that._

“ _God!_ ” he cried out, wincing against the pain. “I'm sorry! I'm sorry. I'm... I didn't mean to imply that she was...lesser.” He looked down at Burton again and sighed, feeling that black sticky sap of his melancholy dripping over him. “I didn't mean to imply that _Betas_...were lesser.”

Burton pursed his lips.

“She knows she can attract much more virile Alphas. Alphas who aren't weak like I am, who have so much more than I do. Even at dinner tonight, with her family, it was like they didn't want to ask about Mr. Topeland or Mr. Samwell or any of her other suitors.”

“Mr. Samwell is _not_ her suitor,” Burton shot back. “He's besotted by Miss Bennington. The girl let him scent her on the balcony at the Hayworth ball and her mother has been chanting up and down the streets that she expects a marriage by the end of the summer.”

“A man can change his mind.”

“I know you hear Mrs. Murray read the society pages, I know you hear her gasp and sigh and I know you have an inkling as to what is in them but obviously you did not hear her this morning,” Burton snapped. “Mr. Topeland is quite infatuated with a Miss Quillin. And I need not remind you that Miss Idlewind is _not_ Miss Quillin.”

Miles felt hot all over, “She _walked with him in the garden_.”

“And _what?_ That means they're engaged!? There is not a single reason that you could not confess your feelings to her and have them received with grace and poise and perhaps even approval!”

He sputtered, laughing in almost madness at the suggestion. “ _Confess?!_ That is the most...the most... _ludicrous_ thing I've ever heard come from you. How could such a sensible man be struck with such an _insane_ notion? To confess undying love and devotion to a woman after knowing her only days—it's something Shakespeare's fool does!”

“And are you not a fool in love?”

He grumbled and groaned, sitting up and covering his face with both his hands while the Beta continued to massage his legs. “You can't possibly understand, Burton. I can't tell her outright. She'll never let me near her again. I'll be the laughingstock of all of London if a Beta girl rejects me. What hope will I have for a mate if the society paper catches wind that I was rejected by the girl who dances with Alphas and flirts her way through ballrooms?”

The Beta sighed and Miles caught a glimpse through his hands of the man's dramatic eye-roll. “The family seems fond of you, at least.”

That was true. The energy about the table had been light and welcoming. Lady Netherfield, the Earl herself, had been lively and engaging with her warmth. She was taller than Miss Hannah and her hair had been cropped short though its rich auburn color seemed to match with her sisters well. The woman was quite daunting at first until she gave her greeting and had welcomed him fully while the other sisters, Olivia and Chastity, curtsied about him and immediately took to him. Quinn, the young Alpha, only thirteen or fourteen, kept her distance from him, giving him a small bow and a murmured hello before she kept to herself during the whole of supper. Lord Netherfield, with his blue-black hair and crystal eyes brought with him an air of delicacy and importance that he hadn't seen in any Omega before.

“I wish...” he murmured to himself more than to Burton, “I wish I could have the kind of love between the Lady and her Lord.”

“Oh,” Burton quipped with recognition. “They are quite besotted, aren't they? I do enjoy the way they look at each other.”

Miles recognized the whisper of longing in his voice. “It is the sort of eternal love that weathers all storms...is it not?”

“I daresay it must be for how they shine with it.”

He could only one day hope for something so beautiful that was the connection that the Earls shared with each other. It wasn't just that they were Alpha and Omega. It was that there was something so deep between them that must have far surpassed words or such trivial physical limitations. It was something that was sweet, emotional, very nearly _feral_ in its sublime intensity and yet so...unassuming. Power. That's what it had behind it, and an absence of any useless shame.

 _Oh, for the love of January,_ he thought morosely, dropping his hands beside himself while Burton finished up. To be trapped in her house. What was he going to do? How was he going to cope? If he was going to see her every day he was here, he was going to go mad. Though, he thought wickedly, there _were_ no other Alphas here. Perhaps it could be easier to turn her attentions if he were alone with her. Perhaps there was something like...hope.

_Don't start this with yourself, you know how it ends. You get your heart broken and it'll match the rest of you._

“Burton,” he blurted.

“Yes, sir?”

“Do you really think she could love me? How I am?”

“How is that?”

He snapped, “You know how I mean!”

The man stared up at him. “Don't be testy. You know I didn't mean for this to happen.” He paused, taking a moment to gather himself. “There is nothing wrong with you. You have plenty you can offer a mate and there is no reason that she should not consider you a perfectly viable option for a husband. You're the heir to a Viscount, you have a very good estate coming to you that you know quite well how to manage. You can afford her all the luxuries she's used to and presumably, you can give her as many children as she could want.”

“Presumably.”

“I've never heard of men in your situation who have become infertile. And you...you can... _you know_...can't you?”

He sniffed his laugh. “Yes.”

“Like I thought, she's no reason not to think you perfectly acceptable. Now. Would you like a cup of tea before you go to bed or should we get you beneath the covers?”

“I'd like to sleep this horrid day away.”

Burton only nodded, helping him to get settled in before he banked the fire and turned down the lamps, leaving Miles mostly in the darkness with his thoughts while he stared up at the dark brocade above him. It was warm in the room and he was comfortable under the covers. He tried to wiggle his toes and despite all the effort he put into it, it was difficult to know if he was succeeding if he wasn't watching himself do it. Sometimes it felt as if his muscles were fighting against something more than just their own internal apathy, as if they were being held by some invisible and all-encompassing force. It had been such a long time that he had dealt with this horror that he was no longer surprised when he was able to do something one day and then unable the next. Things that should have been so damned simple were insurmountable if he didn't hold the complete and utter belief in his ability.

 _Perhaps it is the same with romance. If I don't have the confidence in myself, how am I supposed to accomplish anything?_ He glared mightily upwards and grumbled under his breath. “Damned Beta always seems to be right all the blasted time.” He angrily tried to force his toes to curl and glared even harder as he strained them.

The next morning, he was munching a bit of a scone alone in the dining room while he read a bit of an old newspaper. It was still snowing outside and it had been all through the night. The morning was bright and white and blustery, the loose powdery white drifting against the side of the house as the wind howled and pelted the windows with fat, fluffy flakes. He had seen none of the Idlewinds and was assured that every last one of them was a late riser, none of them ever waking before at the very earliest, ten o'clock. He ate his breakfast in peace and every so often raised his eyes to the outside to see if it was still snowing. It always was. There was no doubt that he would be here for some time and he might as well get used to it.

Quinn was the first to join him, taking him by surprise by sitting across from him while she picked from her plate that she had filled from the sideboard. Her hair was long and only the slightest bit lighter than her sisters', piled atop her head rather than cut short like Lady Netherfield's. Her Alpha scent was strong and nearly eye-watering—the scent of burned holly and evergreen rather bracing first thing in the morning. Her closeness to him was what interested him the most. She had previously been the most aloof of the sisters and this was an intriguing development. At least, it was until she spoke.

“I suppose you're going to figure her out somehow aren't you?”

He stared at her for a few moments while she busied herself with buttering her scone. “Uh...um...excuse me?”

“Hannah. My sister. You're going to figure her out. You _are_ interested in her...are you not? Else you never would have come to call.”

He gave pause. He could tell the girl that he was there for the library but that was a paltry excuse and not in any way truthful. She would know. He wasn't that good at hiding his scent. “I suppose you'd rather I didn't.”

She took a bite of her scone and met his eyes, serious with her gaze. “Why not?”

“Do you not find me unsuitable?”

“If she loves you, I should find you perfectly worthy.”

“And if she does not?”

She raised a brow to suggest her meaning. _Forget it._

He shrugged to himself. Things couldn't ever just be _easy_ , could they? “I suppose you don't have any advice you could give me?”

“Do you love her?”

“Well...” he felt his ears get hot with the force of his blushing. “...yes.”

“Then what kind of advice could you need? She's a Beta. She's caring, kind, and she has a lot of love to give. She dotes upon anyone she finds near and honestly, that the Omegas are so mercenary toward her is baffling to me. If they knew her, they'd be clamoring over themselves to get her attention.”

“Forgive me,” he chuckled, “you are her sister. Your bias is unmistakable.”

“Perhaps. If you really want recourse then I suggest you take this opportunity to be with her. You can hardly harm her by being alone with her and in our family, the only one who would ever scold one of us for being alone with a gentleman is _Hannah herself_. Read her some poetry, gossip about the Omegas, tell her your boyhood tales...what else is there to do when it's like this in London? At least she has you here. Would that I could have someone sweet on me here...”

Miles felt a gentle tug in the back of his mind. “I am sorry...about what happened to him.”

Her eyes lighted with a soft shock and then she settled. “I admit, it's why I was avoiding you last night. Whenever I think about it—”

“It infuriates you,” he finished for her. “I'm the same.”

She smiled. “Just as sisters can be so different, I supposed that so could brothers.”

“Like night and day, truly,” he assured her. “The little one is lucky to have you. You're a kind Alpha and I hope you'll not let him blame himself or suffer for what's happened. If I can help in any way, I should like to have the opportunity.”

Her expression was warm. “I shall let you know if he requires any of your aide then, sir.”

“Thank you.” It wasn't enough to simply mourn what had happened to the poor little creature. His brother had wrought so much damage to so many people and yet he could sit here in these dining rooms and drawing rooms and take little responsibility. The scales were so weighted, he thought while he looked down to his lap. Before long, he rang his bell and allowed Burton to wheel him into the library where he spent another hour reading from one of the novels that his valet found for him along some of the higher shelves.

He was aware of her before she even spoke, her mere presence now more than enough for his blood to begin a slight tingle in his veins. He looked up toward the door to find her approaching him in a beautiful light-colored gown that was less heavy than most of her evening wear and floated about her, clinging in some places and flowing in others, all of which set his attentions upon her body. Her hair was up in simple braids coiled about her head and in all of her simplicity, she shined like a beautiful goddess of winter who cared not for how she frosted him with subtle words and iced his heart with her unknowing elegance. He could imagine her now, better than ever, cloaked in ermine and riding her sturdy mare through feet of pure white snow, over fields coated and glimmering and with ivy woven into her braids. Truly, only a myth could be so alluring. Truly, only the woman he loved could be so untouchable in her grace.

“Good morning, Mr. Swophill,” she greeted.

He cleared his throat. “F-Forgive me if I do not stand.”

She giggled. “Naughty this morning, I see. It is my favorite of your moods.”

His whole body sang at her words and especially that of “favorite.” It was all he longed for, all he could wish for. To be her favorite in all ways. He closed the book in his lap after memorizing his page and held it in both hands while he focused entirely upon her. “I know it is morning but I cannot help but think of Byron when I do see you now, Miss Idlewind.”

“Oh?” she asked as she collected a book from one of the small side tables near the settee which had a strip of fabric in it to mark her place. She sat across from him and settled easily.

“You do walk in beauty...like the night. All that's best of dark and light...and all that.”

“And all that?” she grinned. “Romantic.”

“Every ounce of my charm stems from my humor. If something is too serious, unfortunately, I've no expertise in such an area. Byron was...passionate.”

“And you are not?” she asked, tilting her head to just barely flash the cream of her throat. As unnerved as he normally was by her, the small gesture nearly undid him. “I've a difficult time imagining a man as such. You're all quite passionate. Luring Omegas out into the gardens and onto the terraces and maybe, even, into those dark rooms upstairs for a tryst.”

“Upstairs?” he asked laughingly.

She gave him a once-over and then laughed. “Don't be coy, Mr. Swophill. That you have been a morally upright Alpha is based entirely upon your physical limitations. I've no illusions that if you were not confined, you would have been charming the little ones into covert scenting as much as all the rest of them?”

He scoffed. “Do you really believe that?”

“Do you not?”

He paused and then shrugged one shoulder. He supposed that she could have been right. There was no reason that without his chair he should not have had the confidence in order to do so. Life could have been much different. Much easier. “I suppose you're right again.”

“Passionate,” she announced with a flourish and then added with gentle fervor the end of Byron's verses.

_And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,_

_So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,_

_The smiles that win, the tints that glow,_

_But tell of days in goodness spent,_

_A mind at peace with all below,_

_A heart whose love is innocent!_

  
She laughed when she finished, obviously pleased with herself. “It is almost as if Byron himself believed such a thing...that a woman even widowed is untainted or untouched. Nearly harmful, if you ask me.”

“Harmful?” he asked, jerking back.

“Yes!” she frowned. “Of course it's harmful. Any of these poets who speak of the pureness or the innocence of their mate or beloved or even just some stranger passing by. To assume that someone is somehow perfect—what farce!” She waved her hand in the air near the side of her face while she thought hard about her point. “Projecting some kind of purity on someone who has plenty of flaws is only a measure of desperation and cannot possibly end with happiness between the two.”

“Surely that is not what Byron meant...” he supplied. “Surely he means to show that she is both dark and light and perhaps that in all of her flaws and her blessings, mixed together is a woman who has merely had all of good intentions. She holds no evil in her actions even if she has harmed inadvertently in the past.”

Miss Idlewind studied him, her smile wide. “So the Omegas you admire...you admit that they are not perfect?”

 _There are no Omegas who could hold a candle to your own patchwork of perfection_.

“Nobody is perfect, Miss Idlewind.”

“Good. I agree. Then, if an Alpha does not seek perfection in his mate, what _does_ he seek?”

The question nearly took him off guard for its simplicity though he understood the origin. She was asking him, in a bit of a subversive way, how she would catch herself an Alpha mate.

_Oh Lord help me._

He cleared his throat again. “I suppose we seek what anyone should seek in a mate,” he explained, choosing his words with care. “Understanding, mostly. Appreciation. Fidelity. Intelligence. Wit.”

“And beauty?”

“It is nice to have but not required. A capable mate is far more important than a beautiful one. Though, all the debutantes are remarkably blessed this season.”

“And her scent. It has to mix well with yours.”

“Too many Alphas place far too much stock in scent,” he told her with a half grin. “An Alpha's main objective is to find a mate who can help carry his household and bear his pups. If they think with their...” he paused and rethought his choice of words. “If they were to consider more than just their _instincts_ , they should do much better in choosing their partner. This is a mate for life.”

“Do you not think that they should be compatible in that way?”

“Well...” he faltered, “Yes...but...she does not have to send him into a...she does not have to cater to his more basic instinct. Consider me, for example,” he said, biting his bottom lip before he went on, “There is no feasible way that I could even imagine helping an Omega during her more... _fervent_ days. To consider myself capable in that way is hopeful but nonetheless unrealistic.”

She was frowning, her eyes fixed upon one spot on the carpet.

“Miss Idlewind? I hope I haven't offended you. I have tried to keep my speech more mild...” He felt his palms begin to itch with his nervousness.

“No...that's not it.”

“Then...?”

She gave a little shake to her head, her brows still tightly knit. “I suppose I'm wondering what it is that you _want_.”

“That I want?”

_Oh god, I could go on for days._

“Yes. If you, yourself, consider the prospect of having an Omega wife to be unrealistic, and thus the pursuit futile, then...what is it exactly that you're after?”

Miles wanted to get up more than anything. He wanted to get up and take her into his arms and kiss her and ravish her right there on the settee. He wanted to convince her with his body that she was so very, very wanted. Even the idea was enough to make him prickled all over with gooseflesh. “I only want what any Alpha wants. Compassion...affection...”

“But—”

“Miss Idlewind, forgive me,” he chuckled pleadingly, “but there is nothing that I have said that was meant to imply that I was looking for an _Omega._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. There it is.
> 
> Happy Sunday, everyone.


	10. Chapter 10

His eyes were still that strange mixture of green and gray as he stared at her, his scent muddling and confused while she sat across from him trying to puzzle out exactly what he had just said to her. _Nothing that meant to imply an Omega._ But that was what the wager was _about_ , was it not? That was what he had hoped to find from her meddling. Surely that's what everything she had known suggested so why, now that she was alone with him, would he claim that he had never meant to imply such a thing? Was it not _automatically_ implied by her intervention? That was what she _did_ as a matchmaker. If she was not meant to get him an Omega as a mate, then what in the world could she be doing with him?

“I'm sorry...” Hannah fumbled, “If you had not wished for an Omega mate, then why would Lady Hayworth send me to help you?”

He sighed, his fingers tightening around the edges of the book he still held in his hands. His gaze wandered while he sought answers from himself. “I'm sure I don't know. Unless she...unless she assumed that you might be...” he swallowed and she could smell pain in his scent though its source was not physical. It was _hurting him_ to say this. “... _receptive_ toward...someone like me.”

Sudden and complete realization hit her and it must have shown in her face. Of course it did. Her mouth opened and her eyes were suddenly wide as she took in all of the information that had previously eluded her with its simultaneous complexity and simplicity. Of course. Lady Hayworth was, at her very core, a matchmaker. She hadn't sent Hannah in to see Mr. Swophill for the purpose of Hannah finding him a mate—she had sent her with the purpose of Hannah _becoming_ his mate. She couldn't stop staring at him with what she knew to be a dumbfounded expression. How this had missed her. How this had possibly sailed right over her comprehension...she suddenly felt both stupid and embarrassed.

“You...” she started dumbly, “You knew...didn't you?”

“Of...?”

“That Lady Hayworth meant for...for _me and you_...”

He appeared fearful and his shoulders came upwards in a tense shrug while he lifted the book in front of him in a mimicry of what she had done the night they'd met—a trifling defense. “I had _hoped._ ” His scent was bleeding with a blatant fear that stung in her nose like hot metal. “If such a thing...if such a thing is im-impossible for y-you, I underst-stand...” The way his scent came off of him in waves of anxiety and sorrow betrayed his sheer vulnerability and Hannah suddenly felt the pall of her own power come over her. He was waiting for her to cut him down—a prospect that held no small amount of agony for him and his anxiety was mounting, culminating in that horrible state he had previously exhibited.

She stood and he flinched back, his book falling out of his hands and tumbling to the floor while he trembled and took stuttered half-breaths. With quick movements, she knelt before him and put her hands to him, her fingers covering his ears while the sides of her thumbs rubbed those calming gentle circles into his temples. It was a simple trick and one that she had employed on her sisters many times—mostly with Quinn. With her fingers over his ears, all he would hear was his own heartbeat and the muffled sounds of his breath, if he could focus at all on that, he could very well come back to his calm. She'd never experienced anything of the like but she was no stranger to the damage oneself could wrought upon themselves with only their thoughts, after all, it was a Beta's lot to forever wonder if they hadn't become everything they were meant to be.

Her words were honeyed and calming, as sweet as she could muster. “My, we do get riled up over the oddest of things, don't we? Alphas are such strange creatures sometimes, I'm certain you'll agree. You don't have to be nervous, Mr. Swophill.”

His hands were still tense when he grasped at her wrists pulling her touch away from him.

“Mr. Swophill—”

“Miss Idlewind, _no_. I've _every_ r-reason to be nervous and I'd appreciate it if you could just tell me if I'm ac-acceptable or not. I d-don't mean for this to be some kind of p-proposal. Wuh-What I'm t-trying to ask is if...if...” He closed his pained eyes, his grimace hard while he bowed his head and tried to collect himself, his grip on her wrists steady and firm. “I'm _trying_ to ask if you would al-allow me to c-court you. Please do not spare my feelings out of some misguided pity. If you cannot overcome my brokenness, please tell me now. Do not wait. I cannot...” he took in an unsteady breath. “I will not be able to bear it.”

“Then ease yourself, Alpha. I will accept.”

He had been braced for denial and now, with the opposite given so freely, he opened his eyes and stared at her with his own shocked expression. “Y-You _will?_ ”

“Of course I will.”

“And not out of pity?”

“Do you not have faith in me?” she asked.

He seemed hard pressed to answer. It was certainly easy to understand his reticence. He had not been treated well thus far by most potential suitors and when faced with the prospect of success, it was difficult to trust in the willingness of a partner. There was only one true course and Hannah was not above taking it.

She pulled herself from his grip and slowly, gently, took his hands and put them down into his lap while he let her. She touched him, slowing when he winced at the softness of her fingertips against his jaw.

“ _Don't move,_ ” she whispered, easing up and keeping him still so that she might take her very first kiss from him. Though everything about her station and society insisted that she pull away, it was neither of those things that took control of her now. It was her heart and her mind that drew her to him and allowed her to guiltlessly press her lips against his and take his warmth and understand his nature through the intimate gesture. She could feel the way he softened for her, relaxed and allowed her to guide him as she tipped her head in order to fit better against him. She closed her eyes and took in his fragrance, pleasant with his calm and spiced with his attraction and surprise. His hands, when she felt them on her wrists again, were gentle and lovingly applied, holding her palms against his jaw.

When she slowly pulled back, she felt as though some piece of her broke away and stuck with him though she did not feel in any way deprived of it for she had taken something from him, as well. A puzzle piece that seemed to fit _just so_ within her soul and she ached to feel that fracture again. It was easier this time as she was already so close to him. She pressed forward again, greedy for that closeness and that heat and the moisture of his lips—the way his scent rippled, curling and billowing with his happiness and his shock before it eddied into a pool of pure Alpha bliss. She hoped that her scent could have been so appealing, its mild nature somewhat of a disappointment in most cases, she thought. But this—whatever _this_ was that she felt between them. A spark. A _reaction_ within her that culminated in a tight feeling in her chest and belly. If she could have been caught taking liberties with this man in her own library by anyone of import, she would most certainly be compromised and oh— _oh—_ she did not mind the thought of that at all. _Compromised_ was surely the word to use for what she was doing to herself for there was no other term more apt for how her soul seemed to cling mightily to the idea of _this man_ staying right where he was and doing just what he was doing. Touching her wrists so lightly, pressing his lips against hers so gently, _existing_ with her and feeling what he was feeling—utter devotion to her.

Hannah could get used to feeling worshiped like this. Touched like this. Looked at the way Miles Swophill looked at her whenever she entered a room. _Oh yes._ She could definitely get used to having him all to herself...alone in a library. She smiled against his lips and couldn't help but to give out the slightest little groan that caused Swophill to move one of his hands from her wrist to the side of her neck. The warmth of his fingers as they slid to cradle the back of her head gave her gooseflesh all over, rising in waves over her body and strengthening that coiled tightness deep within her. She felt her nipples bead into hard peaks and her breath begin to shallow.

_Oh my god._

Arousal wasn't _foreign_ to her, per se, but it was certainly not something she had felt with anyone else in the _room with her._ Swophill, as much as she had found him to be an unlikely match, was quickly beginning to change her mind.

This time he broke the kiss, the sweet sound of their lips parting making her almost breathless with her untapped virgin desire. His breath, warm against her cheek, was quick and light and the tickle of it over the wisps of her hair near her ear were enough that she could have nearly swooned with how lovely it felt just to be so close.

_Swophill! Miles Swophill! What a devil of a woman, that Lady Hayworth!_

“ _Don't stop..._ ” she pleaded in a whisper, seeking his mouth again with rooting nudges.

“ _Mmph_.” It was the only sound he could emit when she had captured him again. She'd never before had a kiss and now that she was fully at her leisure, she was so hungry for him. Greedy for him. For _this_ that she had only just experienced. With one of his hands cupping the back of her head, he drew his fingertips down from her wrist with the other, tracing over her arm until he had found her shoulder and pressed her forward. She felt herself easing between his knees, spreading his legs open while she leaned into him shamelessly. The desire she felt, she could scent in his aroma, the still library air suddenly heady with the musk of his appetite for her.

“Well, well, well.”

She jerked away from him, gasping audibly while her heart suddenly shot into her throat and her head snapped toward the open door. Seeing that it was only Drew who stood there seemed to do no good for her nerves and she scrambled to her feet, nearly tripping while she struggled to stand and explain herself. “D-Drew! I-I...I swear it was...it was...we were...” She looked down at Swophill who was still in a bit of a shock from the whole ordeal, his mouth open and his eyes unfocused.

“You were kissing.” The tall Alpha's arms were crossed over her chest and there was amusement ringing through her voice. The woman held no moral high ground—they had all heard of how she and Val had managed to toss propriety clear out the window with their odd meeting and even odder marriage proposal. Though it was often different for Alphas, Hannah would very easily throw it back in her face that she had made love to her Omega almost immediately after having met him if she dared try to scold her for her conduct here. After all, it was only a kiss.

_Only a kiss and yet my whole world is changed. Is this what it is like for everyone's first kiss? Surely not. Surely no Alpha who kissed a debutante in a garden could ever let her go after having experienced what I just felt._

“And?” she asked boldly, drawing Swophill's wide eyes, his mouth falling open even further with his shock at her audacity.

Drew narrowed her eyes and half-smiled. “I'm only surprised that it should be you rather than our more willful sisters.”

“I'm just as willful as the rest of us.”

“Hmm,” was her only reply. She moved further into the room and peered down at Swophill, her scent even and her expression calm. “Do you feel taken advantage of, Mr. Swophill? Or are you as enthralled by her as you seemed last night, still?”

He found his voice, still weak with his emotion. “I am... _enchanted_.”

“Ah. Good. I worry more for you than I do Hannah, I hope you understand. After all, I know Hannah and I know my family.”

Hannah interjected. “Mr. Swophill would like to ask your permission to court me, my Lady.”

“Of course he would.”

“And?”

“And what? You may make that decision yourself.”

“I have already accepted.”

Drew made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Then kiss away, I suppose.” She cast a serious expression toward Swophill. “Though I shall not forgive any more permanent indiscretions. My sister being a Beta...”

Swophill swallowed. “I understand, my Lady. You've no cause to fear.”

“Perhaps not from _your end_ ,” she muttered. “Do be careful, Hannah. I don't want to hear about any of this from Olivia or Chastity.”

“And Quinn? Do you hold her somehow different now that she's...”

“Had her first kiss already? Yes. She and the littlest Neverell are well on their path toward becoming mates. Your sisters, however...”

She sniffed as Drew left the statement open-ended and walked toward the library door, making sure to close it this time to give them a little bit more privacy. They would need it, she thought, and not for further misbehavior. With a bashful look, she implored him.

“Please do not think me a tart.”

He shook his head. “I should never.”

“It is simply that this is the first of any kiss that I've given and I was so charmed by it. I cannot be terribly good at it, I'm so sorry. I've gotten us scolded by the Earl and it's all my fault. I didn't mean to take advantage of you and I suppose there is no excuse for my behavior. This is so silly for it to have come from a Beta, isn't it? But I've never thought it should be so...so... _pleasant—_ ”

“Please,” he interrupted her. “Miss Idlewind, I must tell you that you have in no way offended or taken advantage of me. I truly enjoyed your attentions...all of them.” His grayish-green eyes pleaded with her. “And please, _please_ do not think yourself obligated to allow for this...if you are in any way hesitant—”

“I am not hesitant, Mr. Swophill. I am mortified at my behavior but I cannot bring myself to regret it. I very much like kissing you, sir. If a courtship will include a few more of those and you can promise to me that it will, I am in _no way indecisive._ ”

“I-I...I think that is manageable.”

“Well then we should be in complete agreement that we are...well-suited.” She thought it was as good a term as any. Lady Hayworth must have known something. She must have had some kind of a knack for this kind of thing, after all. Hannah hadn't seen anything about Swophill that screamed to her that he was a potential mate, but then again, had she seen anything like that before? No. Of course not. How could she recognize something she had never before seen? She supposed that there was such a thing as love at first sight or love at first scent but being a Beta was so difficult, she thought. She hadn't expected anything like this—to feel such things when she was pressing her lips against his. There was light in him that shone on all her dark spaces and lit up pieces of her that had never seen the day.

_I feel so full and yet yearning for something. I want to touch him. I want to be close to him. This cannot be normal._

She cleared her throat and looked about, sitting awkwardly back into her seat and fretting with her skirts. “So. Your father's estate. You've been learning to run it?”

He took very well to the change of subject and almost breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the benign nature of the question. “Oh yes. I've had a few small accomplishments in the last few months and I'm fairly proud of them. For a long time, my father's estate has been producing jellies and jams. I convinced him recently that with only slight modifications and only one new out-building, he might do well with the making of _wine_. Not only that but I've altered the diet of his sheep which has made their wool of better quality. It cannot be overstated the importance of cutting pasture at the correct time to create the most nutritious hay.”

“Hay?” she asked, tickled.

“Oh yes. Hay.”

“You seem quite knowledgeable about your sheep.”

“And my wine,” he grinned. “It is those small things that are helpful to know when the estate is pulling in proceeds from them. Of course Father has investments in all sorts of ventures that I know of such as shipping and building and the like. He is quite keen on several inventions that have been dabbled with in recent years and not only that but differing architectural designs and the like. I believe he has invested with that plucky little Omega's father for his grand hotel here in town.”

“Oh yes, I know it,” Hannah smiled. “They've just begun building, I think. I've heard that the plans are quite extensive and ambitious.”

“Good. My father will love it. He's never once told me no and I hope that someday he will just to show me that he can. It is only that I have made decisions for his estate with the utmost care.” He was practically glowing with his pride and Hannah could have preened herself at seeing him in all his _Alpha_ glory. “I daresay, the estate _should_ thrive in my hands, though I do have a tendency to be a little slow with everything. There is only so much that one can do sometimes. There are some moments where it is better to be physically present and I tire so easily.”

“Does your father not employ an estate manager?”

“He does, though he does most of the work himself and his manager stays to run the estate when Father is off on business or taking a social visit to town or a neighboring estate. It is a bit of a chore to run the place and so far, I've really only been in charge of the more domestic areas.”

“Like sheep and wine.”

He chuckled and nodded, carefully and subtly adjusting his legs from how they had been pushed during her intimate assault of him. He was spreading the wrinkles out of his blanket when he responded. “Like sheep and wine. Their wool made this, you know.”

“Did it?”

“Yes. Though, I have a favorite blanket that was knitted for me by our housekeeper. It is heavy like these wool ones though it is so much more malleable and it...well, it smells like me. I do like that about it. I hope you do not find my scent unappealing. I know that Alphas can be overwhelming at times.”

“Do not think of it.” Hannah frowned. “There is nothing about you that offends me.”

He paused, clearly in disbelief. “Nothing at all?”

“Are you really going to make me repeat myself, Mr. Swophill?”

He shook his head diffidently and then sighed, thinking. “Miss Idlewind?”

“Yes?”

“Since we may have some time wherein we are blissfully alone, may I ask a favor of you during those times?”

She blinked. “Alright.”

He tapped his two index fingers together lightly as he asked, “Might you care to call me Miles? If that is too familiar for you—”

“No,” she told him, feeling that aching warmth beginning to spread again under her breastbone. “No. Please. I should like that. And I should like very much to hear you call me Hannah.”

The gentle contentment that eased into his features and relaxed his shoulders and his body made her silently rejoice. His happiness, however small, had suddenly become something she treasured. Such disloyalty of her carefully-contained emotions should have been unspeakably abhorrent but with the swiftness of their treason she found no fault and could only welcome the change. How she had not seen her own ability to think of him this way would haunt her. That she had not recognized her own thoughts of him as in any way romantic. Gracious, should she have to be shoved in the correct direction for everything?

_I certainly needed no shove to kiss him..._

“Hannah...” he mused, the deep timbre of his voice vibrating through her and sending shivers through her very blood. She felt her whole body suddenly attuned to him and his gentle croon—something she thought could only happen to Omegas. Prickles. Tingles. Every fiber of her rising as if to greet him and accept his warmth.

_Lord have mercy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Thanksgiving, I didn't get enough sleep, and I have to deal with copious amounts of family today. Pray for me.
> 
> Like the chapter? Leave me a comment or come visit me on my writing blog at **[J.D. Writes](https://jdwrites.tumblr.com/)**.


	11. Chapter 11

“I've never felt like this before,” he murmured, staring into the fireplace in his room while Burton sat beside him, sipping a cup of tea.

“I don't see how you ever would have,” Burton told him. “It's not everyday you fall in love with a girl. She is quite fiery, isn't she?”

“And she doesn't mind me. All of me. At least, that's what she says.” He was still having those niggling and annoying little doubts that seemed intent to ruin all of his good feelings about the subject. If he could somehow stifle those, he would have been perfectly happy just to bask in the light of her.

“That's what she says and that's what she means,” Burton said.

He wanted to believe that, but with how Betas were, it was difficult to know what they felt. Though, he thought, frowning, he had been quite close to her. Close enough to smell her soft and beautiful aroma that was mild but calming. Slightly floral in nature, it reminded him of waking from a long nap in a very comfortable bed. He murmured toward the fire. “What do you think it should be like if we marry?”

“I think you'll be quite happy.”

“Do you think she'll fall in love with me?”

Burton frowned. “How do you know she hasn't?”

He picked up his tea and sipped it. “Well, I suppose I don't. Her scent seemed happy but she's a Beta. They're notorious for being difficult to read. Not only that but she seemed...surprised.” He took another sip of his tea. “She was genuinely taken aback when she came to the conclusion that Lady Hayworth had intended for _us_ to be together. As if she had never even dreamed that such a thing was possible. As if she hadn't considered me as a potential mate _at all_.”

“Forgive her for that one, Mr. Swophill,” Burton told him flatly. “She _is_ , after all, a Beta. She was probably thinking that you had your heart set on the little Omegas and she didn't want you to be disappointed by her. She wasn't expecting to find an Alpha gentleman who was so interested in her.”

He frowned. “Well that's a dog. She's got plenty of Alpha gentlemen plying for her attentions.”

“No,” Burton chided, “She does not.”

He grumbled, sinking into his chair and drinking the rest of his tea. He wanted another cup but he didn't want to wake in the middle of the night to relieve himself. Usually, the damned chamber pot was too much of a chore to get in the right spot and lord help him if he fell out of bed. It had happened twice and he had been utterly mortified by it in his own house. He couldn't imagine doing it at someone else's home and especially that of Miss Idlewind. He set down his cup and glowered at it.

Burton was chuckling. “And to think I would never have thought of you as a jealous Alpha. Here you are making such a face about the poor girl _dancing_. You know, if you can't dance, you shouldn't keep her from it. You're only courting her and even couples who are betrothed don't keep each other from dancing with the others. You shouldn't be so stifling if you don't want the girl to jilt you.”

He snapped his head to his valet, jerking in his seat. “You don't think she would, do you!?”

“Of course not. She kissed you.” He raised his brows. “She kissed you _thoroughly_ , I should say. I don't think you're in any danger of being jilted as long as you don't let this jealousy get the best of you. Let the girl have some fun.”

“What if another Alpha comes and...and she finds him better matched?”

“That hasn't happened yet. It's been less than a day. You can't live your life worrying about things that might happen. Why don't you worry about things that _did_ happen. Like how she kissed you? I mean, she's obviously a sensual creature, isn't she?”

He settled a bit, remembering the way her body had softened and her lips had pressed hard against his, dazzling him and breaking him down until every defense he'd ever erected was crumbled into nothingness. He'd thought that merely seeing her and speaking to her in Hayworth's library had been enough to expose every soft part of him but there was still something Alpha left standing and she had utterly destroyed it. Now, when he thought of her, he could only pine and wish that she would come to love him the way he inexplicably loved her—with every fiber of himself.

“Oh God,” he whispered, feeling a little tremble roll through him. “How have I gotten myself into such a mire?” Burton didn't respond so he covered his eyes with his hand. “She's so beautiful and she's entirely disarmed me. Father is going to be so amused, isn't he? His sheltered and coddled son driven to madness by a Beta.”

“Driven to madness and she hadn't even given you a struggle,” Burton said and Miles could practically hear the man rolling his eyes. “Things don't get much easier than this, sir. You're about as lucky as a man can get.”

“Everyone says that. You, my father, my brothers...I've been lucky in all ways but the one that constantly haunts me and shall until the end of my days.”

There was a shifting of cloth and he knew Burton had shrugged to acknowledge the point.

Before long, the valet moved to get up and Miles was in bed within the hour, tucked into the cool sheets and comfortable in the warmth of the room while the white moonlight shined in as a reflection from the snows outside. He lay back among the pillows and gave a sigh after he had told Burton he needed nothing else. Truly, what he needed was reassurance and though it flowed readily from the Beta's lips, he needed it from another, more beautiful, Beta. That or he needed to be able to give it to himself. It was just so damnably difficult to imagine that she, a veritable _goddess,_ should like to have anything to do with him. That wasn't to say that he was in any way ugly—none of his brothers were and he knew he was fairly handsome at least. It was only that she was so...so... _something_.

He fell asleep and was unburdened with dreams. When he woke, early again, he moved to the library to try to finish his novel, hopeful that he might have a similar experience with Hannah— _Hannah!_ — again. It was not to be. The sun was out in its full, shining glory and it was not Hannah who joined him in the library but the shorter Beta, Olivia. She chatted with him amiably about her favorite books and went out of her way to suggest titles to him. Eventually, he had to put down the book he was reading as she was asking so many questions about his sheep that he was far too invested to continue. Her questions were less about his management of them than their personalities—something that he considered odd but then again, no less valid. While he didn't know each of them personally, there was at least one that he was able to tell her of in detail.

“Well, we do have an Alpha girl who manages their day-to-day lives and leads them out to the pastures where they can graze,” he explained, “I'm certain she must have names for them but I only truly know of one of them.”

“And?”

“He is the ram. His name is Samson, which I always thought was a rather apt name for him since he does seem to get rather _sheepish_ when shorn.”

Miss Olivia twittered out a healthy amount of giggles and put her fingers over her mouth. “I cannot choose which piece of your tale to laugh at more! That his name is Samson or that he is _sheepish_.”

“He is certainly not so when he is not rendered nearly nude,” he told her flatly, “I was certain he was to tip me right over once when Burton had me down near the barn so I could inspect their quarters. Moving these wheels through mud and straw is trying at best and when a petulant ram has decided he doesn't like you, it becomes very much a chore not to panic.”

The Earl's deep, feminine voice rang through the room. “It is quite natural, I assume, for a man—or an Alpha—to be braver when he is fully-clothed.” She moved further into the library. “You certainly do have a knack for being cornered alone by my sisters, don't you, Mr. Swophill.”

Miss Olivia protested with humor. “Drew, really. We don't mean him any harm.”

She let the two of them have a playful little smile but she kept her eyes narrowed onto Miles, putting a low hum of danger into the back of his mind. He could almost see the ram horns at the side of her head while she inspected him, her protective nature fully prickled by his ability to somehow disarm nearly every one of her sisters.

_Who else can you disarm?_

“F-Fortunately,” he began nervously, “even if I were of sound body, I think I should be perfectly incapable of s-subterfuge. Well...the sort that results in sed-seduction, anyway.”

“Hmm,” was the Earl's response, her Alpha scent tinged with a possessiveness that was unfamiliar to him. It was most certainly protectiveness for her sisters and it was something he understood entirely.

“I should seek to reassure you, my Lady, you've nothing to fear from me.”

“I can smell your honesty, Mr. Swophill.” She turned to Miss Olivia. “Could you excuse us, darling?”

Annoyed, the Beta did as she was bade and left Miles alone with the prickled Alpha—a state he was loathe to find himself in.

The Earl paced slowly with her hands behind her back. “You're a very honest man. A good Alpha and surely, I should hope at the very least, a man without that sort of cunning that should lead a woman to take a path she would not under normal circumstances.”

“N-None of that!” he insisted.

“Good. I should hate for you to use my sister's mothering tendencies against her. She likes to _help_ people.”

A sharp heat pricked at his heart. “She assured me that she was not allowing me to court her out of pity. If that is not the case, then I should...” He should have had no interest in such an arrangement but now, when faced with either that or being alone, he wasn't sure which he would choose. “...I should insist that she...rescind.”

_Please do not insist upon this._

“Alright,” the Alpha nodded. “But I shall not intervene.” She moved to go and then turned back around. “Except to say that there are a few small pieces of parchment upon that writing desk there and Hannah is likely not going to awaken for another hour...perhaps...a note? A nice one?”

His heart softened and he felt himself relax. “Of course, my Lady.”

“I'll send your man in.”

He struggled for nearly the whole of that hour until he settled upon something fairly simple enough. The message did not have to be flowery of word, he thought. There had been one thing that Handel Swophill had done right in his life and that had been teaching his younger brothers how to fold bits of parchment into small shapes—the most important being a small rose bloom that could fit in the palm of one's hand. In reality, it took much longer to craft the rose than it did to write the note that was within it so when he gave it to Burton to deliver, he was quite firm in his instructions not to crush the little thing. It would have to be absolutely perfect if it was going to be for Hannah Idlewind.

He waited around while trying to read, finding the attempt impossible to complete only because he kept reading the same line over and over again. He couldn't focus. He wanted to know what she thought of him—of his note. He was feeling every bit the impatient and over-zealous Alpha that was fashionable these days and he didn't mind showing it, bouncing a finger to tap against the arm of his chair and contemplating ringing those damned bells until he could get Burton to go run around and spy for him.

A shuffle of feet on the rug near the door made him grumble unpleasantly from where he sat at the writing desk. “It's about time, Burton, I was beginning to think you'd fallen into a pit or been walled up in the wine cellar.”

That now-familiar soft voice floated to him as though it were a chime on the wind and he gasped as he craned his neck only to find that she had closed the space between them. “Oh dear. I'd no idea you'd found out so quickly about our dear Mr. Burton.” Hannah touched him, her fingers on his shoulders providing a steadying touch as she dramatically breathed out her words with a toss of her head. “ _For the love of God, Idlewind!_ ”

Miles could feel his heart starting to beat a hundred times faster, his mind reeling with the way her hands rested upon his shoulders as she stood behind him. That touch, innocent as it was, was more than he could handle. Even after she had kissed him only the day before, he couldn't come to grips with the simple touch of her fingers and palms—so intimately aware of her was he that he could feel, to his abject horror, his arousal pooling in his lower belly. He swallowed and then swallowed again, cognizant of his body stiffening with her proximity and her touch.

_She's not even kissing you yet. She's not even doing anything that should imply intimacy. She's just here with you—are you so desperate and neglected that you should have this kind of reaction so quickly?_

Yes, he thought pathetically. There were men dancing and making love to their mistresses and other debutantes all over the place in London. There were certified rakes who plowed and rutted their way through ballrooms, kissing, scenting, and all number of dastardly things in the gardens and, like Hannah had said, in the upstairs bedrooms. Then there was Miles. Poor Miles Swophill. Stuck in his damned chair getting carried by the staff at every estate and staring after Miss Idlewind like some lost little puppy and hoping that beyond everything, she would see him and want him and somehow— _somehow_ —come to love him. _Yes_ , he thought, still pathetically. He was going to get hard from just her hands upon his shoulders.

Her voice was unwittingly sultry and he had to stifle a moan from the way her breath tickled the tip of his ear. “It felt terribly wrong to pull apart that little flower to read your note and when I did, it was hardly even worth the trouble. I would have come to find you in the library even without. Was it terribly difficult to make?”

“Sh-should y-you like another one?” he tried, hoping that she would ignore his excited scent and take care not to stare at him while he kept his hands upon his lap over the wool where it covered his humiliating reaction to her mere presence.

“Perhaps. Whenever you have a reason to make another for me. Who knows? Perhaps I shall make you quite cross and you should never be inclined.”

“I should hope,” he replied, “That in times that I am quite c-cross with you, that should be the first of my priorities. One can hardly sling insults and words they will regret if one is spending half the hour making tiny folds in parchment.”

“How true.” She moved around to the side of the desk, her hands leaving him and his heart stuttering at the loss. “The snow is melting today and by this evening, I will have lost every opportunity to ravish you.”

He chuckled. “M-Miss Idlewind, you are a gentlewoman. I should like to think you'd not the first idea what it means to r-ravish a man.”

She thought for a moment then her eyes came back to him. “You know, you're right. I've hardly the knowledge. I suppose you'd have to be quite willing and able to tell me what I'm supposed to do.”

Oh this had been a mistake, he thought with a hard gulp. The mere _idea_ of telling Hannah Idlewind exactly what to do with his body to give him pleasure was enough to make him nearly shiver with his need. Short tremors tightened low in his belly and he was so painfully aroused that keeping himself from tenting up the damned wool blanket was putting him damned near into a fit. His jaw was trembling and he knew there was something wild within him doing its very best to rip free of his tenuous hold upon it. If he had been able to stand, he would have brutalized her with kisses. On her mouth, on her throat, on the delicate frame of her collarbones and especially, _oh god especially,_ upon those succulent breasts that just barely peeked from the slope of her neckline. He would give anything to see her bared to him, goddess that she was, with her snowy white flesh shadowed and highlighted in the winter light pouring in from the windows. He could give half his life, maybe even his whole, just to hold her once and run his fingers down the silk of her flesh and the crushed velvet between her thighs.

He was vaguely aware that his breaths had become shallow pants through his mouth, his eyes riveted to her form as he slowly faded back from his imaginings of her naked and pliant in his arms. She was puzzling over him, her nostrils flaring curiously at his strong scent while she leaned over the side of the desk, her arms pressing her breasts more firmly together under her bodice, giving them a fuller appearance and driving him absolutely to the brink of madness.

“M-M-Miss Idlewind...” he breathed.

“Have I said something wrong?” she asked.

“N-No! I-I-I...” He couldn't seem to get a hold of himself or his thoughts and the subsequent infuriating madness that followed the realization seemed to further strip him of his abilities. “Y-Y-Y-You...” He wanted to cover his face but couldn't or it would have been only too obvious that he was sporting a rather impressive erection and he was not tucked far enough under the desk to hide it. He sucked his lips into his mouth between his teeth and regarded her with a comically wide-eyed expression that he knew could never tell her what he wished her to know.

_Damn you and your tangle-tongue! Damn you and your blasted stammer! Damn you and damn your penchant for being an absolute pervert!_

“Oh, I have put you in a mess, haven't I?” she stated worriedly. “I do apologize, Mr. Swophill.” Recognition poured into her expression and she repeated the sentiment, this time with a ruddy color invading her cheeks and a breathlessness that came from her embarrassment. “ _I do apologize_ , Mr. Swophill! Oh...I...now I...I don't know what to do!” She backed away from the desk. “Oh dear. I hadn't known that I could...I thought only Omegas could...pardon my bluntness but that _is_ that scent, is it not?” She fretted, fanning herself with her open hands. “Oh dear, I am so sorry! If I remove myself—?”

_Oh no. Oh god no. Please don't be disgusted with me._

“P-P-Pl-Please...” he choked out, “d-d-don't l-leave.”

She was becoming more frantic by the moment, her posture rigid and her expression distinctly uncertain. “What do I do? How I can I help you? M-Miles...?”

He sank his head down to the surface of the desk, the cool texture of it easing the heat of his pulsing arousal only a modicum but the welcoming blackness of the inside of his eyelids providing much more than that. By not looking directly at her, his mind, though reeling, could form and focus around the words he wished to say.

“I-I'm n-not fit for polite c-company, Miss Idlewind. I-I am t-too easily excited by you. There is n-nothing I can ask of you. Though I d-don't wish for you to leave, that is...a terribly selfish r-request.” He could feel hot tears pricking the backs of his eyes again and he hated himself. “I w-wish I could be the t-type of Alpha you d-deserve.”

“Oh well now _that_ is absolutely one of the most absurd things I've ever heard a gentleman say to me,” she snapped and he lifted his head to find her fully admonishing him. “Your condition is...is... _unenviable_ but it still is not enough of an excuse for your constant belittling of yourself. That you become...” Her face was still ruddy but blazed anew, “ _easily excited_ is no doubt part of your instincts that have been denied for so long. How can you blame yourself for everything that's happened to you that is beyond your control? How could I, for that matter, blame you for such things? The notion itself is enough to cause significant incredulousness in even the most steadfast of Betas, of which _I am not_.”

He stared at her dumbly.

Her voice softened. “Miles. How do I help you?”

He shook his head very slightly. There was nothing she could do. There was an ache within him that was too much to bear.

“Tell me what to do.”

“N-No...”

“Shall I kiss you?”

He felt breathless. “I will die.”

“Should my company be so terrible?” She approached him and floated to her knees beside him, her hands gently pushing his chair until she could face him while his heart pounded and panic began to bleed into his scent. “Are you so afraid of me?”

Miles felt a hot tear escape down one cheek as he confessed. “I am af-afraid you will f-find me d-d-distasteful.”

“I promise I shall not,” she replied, fondly touching her fingertips to his trembling jaw.

The softness of her was going to be his undoing. If she touched him any further, he would spend himself right in his drawers like some untried boy without any sort of caress. That she would know, that she would discover that he had come to climax without even a kiss, it was unbearable. Everything was unbearable. The desperation that his flesh had come to know at her mere existence in this world was something that made him wallow in the depths of his deepest misery. How had he become so pathetic? Had his upbringing done him so wrong as to make him into this terrible, suffering deviant?

He could not have protested even if he could have found the strength within him to make a sound. It would have gotten caught up in his damnable stammer, anyway. With the brush of her lips against his, he knew his fate was sealed. She explored him with her distinctive faint heat, nothing compared to the waves that he was putting off, and everything inside him coiled and tensed with each second of the delicious and torturous contact. Every muscle in his body that could have tightened did so and he was certain for at least a moment that his toes were curling. His fists tightened in his lap and pressed downward while he shuddered. His mouth opened under hers and with the sparks in his vision, he emitted a low and deeply strained orgasmic groan while his eyelids fluttered.

_Oh my god._

Only Miles Swophill— _poor Miles Swophill_ —could have come in his drawers with a woman merely setting her lips upon his. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of things, not the least of which was that of getting as far away from her and his shattered dignity as humanly possible. Stiffly, he raised his hands to prudently push her back before he found his bell and shakily rang it for Burton to fetch him.

“Miles,” she protested, seeking him for another kiss.

“P-P-Please don't touch me,” he told her, more firmly that he had intended. The shock in her eyes made him immediately regret having snapped but good lord the woman was going to _kill him_. Burton arrived in short order and he refused to meet the Beta's eyes, instructing him to remove him from the library to take him to his room.

He would not speak to the valet and, clearly knowing his wishes, Burton didn't make the attempt to soothe him.

“As soon as the roads are passable, I wish to go home.”

“Yes, sir,” the Beta told him, nodding in deference while he helped him change into a new set of drawers and then into a dressing gown to that he might return to bed for a few hours. He aggressively snugged himself down among the pillows and screwed his eyes shut, fighting back unmanly tears. He had never been so hopelessly embarrassed since he was a boy. Had he the ability to toss himself out the window, he felt as though he might have actually done so.

_God take mercy upon me and let me be struck down so that I might never have to see her look at me again with such blithe pity._

He covered his face with his hands, turned into the pillows, and let himself weep until he could weep no more, the words of Hannah and her sisters tumbling over him like a heavy pall.

_“You certainly do have a knack for being cornered alone by my sisters, don't you, Mr. Swophill.”_

_“We don't mean him any harm.”_

_“Shall I kiss you?”_

_“Are you so afraid of me?”_

He sobbed into his wet hands and whispered his reply, so quiet that the rushing blood in his ears nearly drowned it to his own perception.

_“Yes.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miles is such a complex and tortured creature. I am terrible.
> 
> Leave a comment! Tell me what a terrible person I am for making the poor guy jizz in his pants.


	12. Chapter 12

She had not seen him in a little over two weeks. Her family, tactful as ever, had skirted around the fact that she was supposed to be accepting calls from a gentleman and had instead decided to pretend that everything was perfectly in order. Drew, though falling in with the others in not mentioning the subject, seemed particularly bothered by Miles's failure to even send her a single missive—something that was truly baffling after the man had told her that he was _enchanted_ by Hannah. Of course, she recognized that it was all her fault that the man had left without another word to her and then consciously avoided her, keeping himself from going to any of the functions she was attending and sending his regrets to every hostess that invited him.

It was well enough, she thought while she climbed the snowy steps up to the manor house of Lord Asterly. The Dukes were throwing a rather grand party which had surprised nearly everyone in town for the season. Normally balls and parties and the like were planned meticulously and some of them even had small councils that oversaw their preparation and execution but this had been, in all appearances, spontaneous, popping up with an invitation that came much as a shock to those who had been lucky enough to get one. She wondered if Miles had, as it would have been much too close a thing for him to have found out if she was going—perhaps he had come.

She gripped onto Drew's arm, the Earl coming as her chaperone due to Aunt Ellen's stomach ache. Her sister had easily accepted the offer to come as she had not seen the smaller Duke, the former Mr. Hainsley, in quite some time and from her eagerness, Hannah could only assume the Omega was quite the interesting fellow. The Alpha inspected the front hall, glimmering in the light from the chandelier and then leaned down to murmur into Hannah's ear. “I've never been here for a party before. Normally it's midday for drinks and business. Asterly is quite the industrious fellow. You remember him, from the birth of his eldest, little Louis.”

“Oh gracious,” Hannah breathed, suddenly remembering the night they had all been shocked to find the pregnant Omega and his Alpha at Netherfield. “I _do_ remember. Oh, it's going to be so nice to see the small one again. It will be wonderful to find him not so round.”

What would not be wonderful was walking into a ballroom to find herself face-to-face with the man who she had caused to...whatever Val had called it when she had spoken to him. Of course Val was the only one that she could go to. He was the Omega. He was the rational and honest painter who thought nothing about telling a young debutante exactly what happened to Alphas when they had become _excited_ by a mate. Although, she frowned, she was not his mate and it was likely that with her bumbling about and stomping all over his boundaries, she would never be. Val had been sitting in the library with his easel and his paints, prodding the tip of his brush against the canvas when she had sat on the floor and related to him all the events that had transpired between she and Miles. She had even called him by his first name which had certainly gotten the Omega's attention.

_“Good lord, the poor man was terribly deprived, wasn't he?”_

Val's dulcet voice echoed through her memory and she felt her cheeks warm when she thought of how he had told her _exactly_ what had happened when she had kissed Miles upon the mouth. Had she been any younger than she was, she might have been more horrified than she was, but now she was merely embarrassed to have been so naïve to have not even realized. Her fumbling Beta-ness and her obvious inexperience had made it nearly impossible for her to even look at him ever again knowing that her shameless advance had caused such a severe (and likely overdue) reaction in him. She hadn't known of her own power to arouse an Alpha to such a degree. She hadn't known that it was possible to...to...

“Is it overly warm? It is a little, isn't it? You look a little too pink, Hannah, are you feeling alright?” Drew asked, putting a finger upon her brow.

“I'm alright,” she replied, drawn back to reality just in time before she was pulled by her sister to be greeted by the hosts.

The smaller Asterly was first, his strawberry blonde hair shining in the soft light and his eyes alight with the excitement of a party. “Good evening, Miss Idlewind, it is lovely to see you again.”

She curtsied. “Your Grace. You've certainly outdone yourself with how quickly you've managed this affair.”

He smiled broadly. “I've never thrown a party before, it is quite exciting. I had a bit of help in the organizing from a few of the more seasoned Omegas but when Morgan said he wanted to throw it, I thought it was a fine idea.”

Drew interjected, casting her eyes to the Alpha Duke and raising a brow. “You? Your own party? What must be the matter with you, Duke? Caught an itch or something?”

The Alpha cleared his throat and flicked a glance to Hannah before he replied, “A mate opens a whole new set of opportunities, you know. Bachelorhood was a crashing bore and now that I've got the ton in my ballroom, I daresay I'll have quite a bit of entertainment at least.”

Hannah was smiling unabashedly. “They are quite fun.”

Asterly lifted her hand and kissed it. “It's wonderful to have you here, Miss Idlewind,” he purred, “I should ask you for a dance later. I keep getting told that it's quite novel for the Alphas to have a partner whose feathers are not tickling their noses as they dance.”

She couldn't help being flattered by the statement and she gave a lady-like chuckle. “Thank you, Your Grace, I shall take you up on the offer certainly.”

When they had moved away from the hosts, she clung to Drew more tightly, nervous and seeking any hint of Miles or his attractive smokey scent.

“You smell anxious,” Drew murmured. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened between you and Swophill?”

“Valentine did not?” she whispered back.

“If you trade a secret with Val, he will not tell a soul, my dear. Not even I.”

She tipped the sides of her mouth downward. “I shouldn't tell you. Not here. Perhaps nowhere. I was...a bit of a tart.”

“Living up to what the papers say about you, are you?” She chuckled, clearly amused when by all rights she should have been livid that Hannah was taking liberties.

“He's cross with me,” she explained. “I embarrassed him.”

“Oh, goodness. As you well know, an Alpha's pride is as vulnerable to harm as his hand or foot. The poor man probably lost sleep over it. Do you think you've ruined it for yourself? Shall you have to find another suitor? I had only just given him a warning, too.”

“A warning?” she asked.

“Of course. I had often thought of what sort of warning I should give a man who would court you and then, when you had chosen Swophill, I was thrown for a bit. It is not likely that he will stand up and ravish you...my warning was quite mild, I should say. That he should not manipulate you.”

Hannah frowned at her sister while they wandered to the edge of the dance floor and watched the Omegas whirling about in their pretty pastel colors. “I hope you did not frighten the poor man.”

“Of course not. Well.” Drew rolled her eyes. “Perhaps only a little.”

She sighed. “And it's all for naught.”

“Oh well,” Drew said, looking at her expectantly. “You've Alphas to dance with and Omegas to turn green-eyed. You'd best get to it while the night is young, you little adventuress.”

“I am not an adventuress. Do you really think he will not see me again?”

“Do you want him to?”

She was still frowning, watching the little Omega whose scent was like brown sugar. “I do like him. He's handsome and kind.”

“Then you will find a way. Perhaps he is here tonight.”

She shied against Drew's shoulder, frowning even harder.

The Alpha laughed. “Oh dear, that was the wrong thing to say. And still, it is true. You could find your resolution tonight. You will never know until you've seen him and you cannot put it off forever. You're the least childish Idlewind of the lot of us and here you are shirking away from this. Come now. Dance with some of these gentlemen. Dance with Rainton and stir up some trouble for him.” She elbowed her playfully. “Come on, go, go.”

Hannah went, easing through the crowds easily enough and attracting attention wherever she dared go. It helped that her gown was a brilliant sanguine that vied for every eye in the room as it whirled and shined with golden hems and threading. Her first dance was with Topeland who made her laugh as she was waltzing with him—something that was sure to make Miss Quillin absolutely livid. Her second dance was with Miss Straffton who seemed rather nervous to do so, uncertain as to if she wanted to be swamped by a hoard of Omegas or not. Through a little bit of teasing, Hannah managed to weedle her enough to reveal that the woman's true attraction was not to any of the Omegas but rather lay upon another _Beta girl_ who had just made her way into town for the season with her family. In a discreet glance, Hannah found the girl near the punch bowl, blissfully unaware of Miss Straffton. The third of her dances was with Rainton who she had cornered and prodded into a waltz. Though at first the man was begrudging about the affair, he warmed quickly.

“You are quite good, Miss Idlewind, and Samwell wasn't kidding when he said that it was nice to finally have someone well-matched in size.”

“You know I am testy about my height, my Lord.”

“Bullocks,” he cursed, “You're teasing me now again.”

“If you say one more thing about my height, I'll make sure the Omegas never leave you alone for the rest of the evening.” She was smiling, though she really did mean the threat. It would be only too easy.

“I dare you,” he grinned with a devilish glint in his eye.

She tossed her head as they danced and cast a heavy-lidded glance to the cluster of Omegas, all of whom were staring directly at her with clear wonder and a veiled collective fury. With a little grin, she led Rainton off to the side of the floor gracefully and leaned close, nearly brushing her lips against his ear while she whispered softly, “ _Now you've done it. You'll be mobbed as soon as I'm finished with you._ ” With her plot complete, she pulled him again onto the dance floor while he laughed and gracefully helped her back into the lively steps.

“You are the most interesting Beta I think I've ever met, Miss Idlewind,” he beamed, happily continuing. “You should never be a stranger to me. Good lord, I should hope that you might even come to call sometimes.”

“Is this your invitation of friendship, my Lord?”

“Of course it is. I can't let a wily woman like you end up hidden away in a musty old parlor after marriage. Can't an Alpha have a friend who's just as devilish?” His expression faltered for only a moment and there was something unfamiliar in his scent. “Or...or a wife...?”

She let out an incredulous giggle. “You are _not_ proposing to me, my Lord.”

“Why not?” he asked, humored and haughty at the same time while they danced.

“You cannot be.”

He laughed again. “Very well. I won't, then. But someone ought to and I've a mind to who.”

“And who is that, pray tell, my Lord?”

Before Rainton could answer, a commanding and large— _huge!_ —presence came beside them and the Duke, Asterly, put out his hand to cut in.

Rainton muttered amiably, “Damn you, Asterly.”

As she was taken well in hand by her new partner, she was shocked by just how tall the man was, realizing suddenly that he was taller than most other Alphas she'd ever met and even managed to make her feel rather small. How he ever managed with his tiny and sweet little Omega, she should never know. Of course, she did not have ample enough time to fully relish the sensation since the set had ended not long after, but Asterly did not let go of her hand.

“My Lord?” she asked, as he walked with her along the side of the room.

“You look a little warm, perhaps a moment on the terrace.”

“A moment on—” That perhaps he was wishing for a tryst was foremost in her mind but logic could not permit it. “Sir, my chaperone...”

“I will fetch her.” He brought her her cloak and guided her to the doors to the terrace while Drew was summoned. When her sister wordlessly came, Hannah allowed herself to be ushered out onto the stone which was not slippery despite the thin layer of perfectly undisturbed snow atop it. Drew waited by the door, a curious smile on her face.

She drew her heavy cloak around her shoulders while small flakes dropped lazily around them, fluttering through the breezeless London air as travelers from a distant cloud. There was nothing above them to hamper the sight of the cool full moon above them which provided more than enough light to see as it was reflected over the pure white which coated everything in the small ornate garden. She had not realized how warm she had felt until the cold was rushing over her like a balm and she wondered just how Asterly had known that such a thing would have helped her. He _was_ quite practiced in the art of reading a woman, she thought, casting an eye over him.

“You know,” he started, in his deep masculine tone, “I've always thought the moon was rather beautiful but tonight, she has truly become a wonder.”

Hannah didn't respond quite yet, taking a few steps toward the decorative little stream so that she might be able to see the reflection of that glorious moon within its glassy surface. It was the kind of little stream that was always in motion despite its ability to seem perfectly placid and of course it was complete with a small stone bridge that allows for guests to reach the rest of the garden should they wish it, but tonight there were no lamps lit, leaving nothing but that constant silver glow as the only illumination. She basked in it, watching the mist of her breath leave her and float before her in a cloud of lost whispers.

She wanted to ask him what she was doing out there. Why she was standing in her slippers and gown in the cold air. But most of her questions were not meant for Asterly. They were meant for the moon.

_Why cannot everything be more simple? Why does everything felt so dull inside me? Am I never to feel passion again? When I think of how it made me feel to kiss him...should I ever feel the same for another?_

She stared down at the moon in the surface of the water, unfocused and filtering through this now familiar turmoil until her eyes were caught by an anomaly that passed over the moon's reflection. What it was, she could not say for certain at first. A blot that moved with the slow current and begged for her mind's attention. She took a step forward, frowning at the little interloper only to find another one following behind. These, it seemed, were far too interesting for her mind to ignore so she crouched to inspect them as they moved, shocked to find yet a third following. As they floated serenely through the snowy scene, she reached for one and finally it dawned on her what they were.

Flowers. Paper flowers. _Paper roses._

She stood suddenly, her hands tingling with a jolt of adrenaline while she looked down the small decorative stream to find a multitude of the little roses, each floating along perfectly by the light of the moon.

Where they had come from was less than obvious but with her discerning eye, she found a balcony a little ways upward from where she stood though with the stone railing about, she could not see him where he must have sat. Reaching down, she plucked one of the small roses up from the icy water, causing a multitude of ripples to float out from where her fingers had breached the surface before she turned to Asterly and whispered.

“ _Take me to him?_ ”

“Of course, Miss Idlewind.” He had the same kind of odd smile on his face that her sister did and there was no doubt that there was some kind of heinous plotting involved here. Despite knowing, Hannah wasn't sure she minded the interference while she held her freezing fingertips to her chest and protectively cupped the little paper rose in her hand.

_He's forgiven me._

The thought made her heart flutter and apprehension to well up within her. She should have been overjoyed but now, she merely felt like she might be led to her doom somehow. That he would have lured her into accepting an invitation for him to—

_Don't be ridiculous._

The sparkling sensation of her adrenaline that had begun on her hands and arms had now spread under her velvet gown, coming in waves over her as if she was being kissed by a thousand fairies. Her heart was thudding dangerously in her chest and she didn't know what she might say to him. She didn't know what she _could_ say to him. When she was deposited by Asterly and Drew at the door to the room where she would find him, she faltered until the Duke twisted the knob for her and edged her in with his large hand on her back. Courage was what she truly lacked and she balked at the idea of it, knowing full well that when it came to courage, nearly all of the Idlewinds had it in great abundance. So where was hers right now?

It was a small parlor with a roaring fire in the hearth that cast a warm glow through the room. She silently thanked Asterly for not taking her cloak from her for the cold that seeped in from the french doors to the balcony was enough to make anyone shiver. Yet he was there, his elbow on the stone rail and his cheek against his knuckles while he examined a paper rose with a blasé scrutiny before dropping it listlessly over the side to the garden stream below. There was something different about him that she immediately placed. _His chair._ It was built with comfort in mind and sported two rather large wheels situated toward the back that were outfitted with sleek brass rails that would allow him to move himself should he wish.

_Ingenious._

Hannah took a deep breath and approached him, studying the new chair with intense wonder. It wasn't everyday one got to see something so perfectly novel and it was obviously something that Miles had come to London to find. Sleek, handsome, and likely _expensive_ , the chair was quite clearly the work of a master artisan and Miles made it look extremely good sitting in it, his bold Alpha form fitting perfectly within its measurements.

He stirred the second he noticed her presence at the doors and when he gazed upward, he focused on her warily, sitting up straight and wiping the back of his hand over his mouth without saying anything. He cleared his throat but didn't speak right away, his eyes darting from one section of the stone to the next while his scent muddled with a hundred different emotions.

She stood stiffly, her hands clasped in front of her around the delicate little rose while she noticed at least a dozen more sitting in his lap over the wool blanket. “I hope I haven't disturbed you, Mr. Swophill.”

He gave a slight pained sound and then shook his head.

“I came to apologize. I hadn't mean to harm you.”

“Y-you didn't—”

“I know what I did, Mr. Swophill and as an Alpha, your pride is every bit a part of you and can very much hurt when stepped upon. I'm sorry. I should have listened to you.”

He was quiet, chewing his lip and clearly uncertain. “I d-don't want y-you to think that I-I don't want...want you...” he mumbled. “I do.”

She looked at him blankly. “I'd like that, Mr. Swophill. To be wanted. To be needed. I'd very much like to make you laugh again...Miles.”

He jerked at the familiar use of his name and his eyes caught the small flower in her fingers. “The truth is, Miss Idlewind...” he paused, “ _Hannah..._ That I am so sensitive to you...I must confess that I have never felt this way before about anyone and it is driving me to distraction. It seems so hideously q-quick and yet I've known it from the night I met you that...that I love... _I love you_.” He winced at his own words. “God, it sounds so pitiful coming from me.”

“No,” she protested, easing forward to the edge of his chair. “No...please, Miles. Don't say that. It does not sound pitiful in the least and I...I greatly appreciate the sentiment. Should you like to come out the ballroom with me?”

He appeared confused, tipping up his head and causing a few stray snowflakes to fall from his hair. “The ballroom? For what p-purpose?”

“I want to flash you about and to brag about you, of course,” she smiled, teasing him to conjure his winsome warmth. “I want to do things with you like drink punch and watch all the ridiculous people go dancing.”

“W-Well...alright...” he replied, tentative.  He brushed the rest of the paper roses off his lap and into the snow.  “You shouldn't become bored with me?”

“Of course not. Perhaps I shall dance with someone just to make you a tiny bit jealous. You should come play with me a little. Humor me.”

He frowned.

“But I shall dance with only Mr. Porter, if you'd prefer. Or perhaps a married gentleman.”

“If you're of the mind to...I suppose Mr. Porter should be acceptable,” he agreed.

She watched him as he arranged himself and carefully moved his hands to the brass rails on the outer rim of his wheels. He apologized for his pace, as he explained the chair was new and quite heavy, but he moved gracefully in it, pushing forward in front of her and even managing to open the door on his own. The way his arms pushed forward upon the rails was so novel that she couldn't stop herself from watching him even to the point where she realized suddenly that she had just arrived in the ballroom at the same time with him—something that was normally avoided in such places. Even still, it seemed that no one of consequence had even noticed, allowing them to emerge right into the somewhat crowded ballroom and into those glittering lights without even the hint of scandal.

 _Not that I'm not a walking bit of scandal anyhow_ , she thought wryly.

“Let me get you a drink, Mi—Mr. Swophill,” she offered and he glanced up at her with his nod. She was halfway to the punch bowl before she felt a tug upon her skirt and when she looked down, she could have jumped back in surprise. Never before in her life had she run across a scent so purely lined in malice. “Miss Bennington, what a delight.”

Though her scent was angered and full-blooded in her fury, her eyes were glittering with unshed tears. “ _How dare you, you dratted wench!_ ” she hissed, low enough for her not to have alerted any nearby party-goers.

“Oh my, Miss Bennington, I swear to you, I've no designs upon Mr. Samwell...I haven't even gone near to him tonight.”

“This isn't about Mr. Samwell. You've been flirting with and dancing with nearly all of the Alpha bachelors who aren't old and stodgy and frankly this has to stop! I thought my mother was quite clear to you when she admonished you but perhaps it should come from a woman in your own position!”

She raised her brows and drew up to her full height, towering over the little Omega whose fists were clenched and trembling. “In my own position? Pardon me,” she crooned, “but you are far out of the range of _my position_ , little one. You are an Omega. You are expected to flit about and play coy. I have no such obligation. You may be as timid as you wish around them, but you should not expect me to subscribe to the same strategy. Aside, you've nothing to be concerned about. Samwell is yours. He's no interest in me, and for that matter, nearly none of these Alpha have any interest in me. You know they only dance with me to rouse all of you.”

She twitched as if she had been flicked in the nose. “You Betas are all born liars aren't you?”

Hannah felt a twinge of annoyance that bordered anger and her courage suddenly came rushing back while her spin stiffened. “The little feathered kittens have claws, I see. Tell me, little one, which of my lies would you like to have cleared up?”

She hissed, her unshed tears still glittering. “You've got it out for Mr. Swophill! An heir to a Viscount, a man of considerable wealth, and an _Alpha!_ ”

“Dear me,” she feigned surprise, “I hadn't known Mr. Swophill could arise such passion from the lot of you. Tell me, dearest, which of you will throw yourself at his feet for marriage just to keep me from him?”

“Auh!” was her indignant cry. “You don't deserve him. He shouldn't be subjected to the tasteless and scheming Beta tart!”

“Such language for an upstanding and decent girl such as yourself. Goodness gracious what would your mother say to hear such words from your mouth? I think perhaps Mr. Swophill should be allowed to make whatever decisions he wishes when it comes to his romantic pursuits.” With that, she turned and filled a cup of punch only to turn back to where Miles was sitting to find him positively overrun. “Oh...” she murmured, caught somewhere between amusement and disappointment to see the Omegas fluttering around him like smug little peacocks, one of them even going so far as to lean bodily upon the armrest of his chair, her head tilted only a bit to the side as if daring him to discreetly scent her.

Mayhap the ballroom hadn't been the best of her ideas but it was at least a decent exercise in restraint for the most of them. Miles, of course, was keeping his strained politeness while the girls twittered about him asking questions and attempting to charm him. She, on the other hand, was starting to seethe where she stood.

Miss Bennington's voice was filled with a breathless sort of disdain. “You'll never be called upon again at this rate. There's nothing like a pack of willing debutantes that will turn a man's head from an _unsuitable_ potential mate. And that is what you _are_ , Miss Idlewind.”

She snapped her gaze down to where the self-satisfied chit stood and contemplated her only for a moment before she lifted Miles's punch and emptied it right over her pretty little head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cat fight.
> 
> Hollow is going to be _so_ entertained.
> 
>  **Up Next:** Miles has his own ways of getting out of uncomfortable situations.


	13. Chapter 13

_Of course, the scene was not complete with the impertinent gesture that sent Miss Bennington from the ballroom in a pique—there was more to occur! No sooner did the dastardly event transpire than Miss Bennington's own companions, struck by the desire to assist their friend's flight, made the attempt to run to her side. Unfortunately, the poor girls who leaped to her aid were hampered by their own attentions to the dear Mr. Swophill. It seems that as they had been attending him, their hems had been found to have been pinned to the floor and in their quick flight, torn to pieces in an instant. Miss Bennington's fraught condition was tended to by the amused Lord Astlery—the Omega clearly taking delight that his event should spur such a fluster among the debutantes. Is this the precedent that Miss Idlewind shall set? Every Omega debutante who cares not to find herself with punch in her coiffure should take note. After all, there are two more Beta sisters behind her!_

* * *

“I swear to you,” Miles professed, laughter still under his voice as he sat with her and Aunt Ellen, “I'd no idea that their hems were under the wheel. You know, this thing is rather new and it's difficult to know exactly what is where.” They were tucked in cozy together under a shared blanket and it had been a few weeks since she had poured punch all over Miss Bennington's head which, of course, had led to a surprising amount of invitations arriving to her doorstep. She had not been _uninvited_ to any party she had already responded to and she swore to him up and down that she was possibly getting more than she was before. Aunt Ellen had fallen asleep, oblivious to anything happening around her. The gentle coax of the winter sun seemed to warm her enough to lull her.

“I don't believe you,” she replied, smiling even as she pulled her cloak tighter around her. It wasn't quite as cold as it could have been, being now early February, but there was a nip in the breeze that she clearly did not enjoy.

“Mayhap you shouldn't believe me,” he told her matter-of-factly, and she grinned at him.

Oh that beautiful grin. She arrested him with it. He had been blessed for so many days with her smile gracing him on each and every one that he came to call. If it had not been uncouth, he should have came to call upon her every single day and yet he was bound by some damned rules of convention that would not allow for such a thing. Not only was Hannah Idlewind the most fetching girl he'd ever seen in his days, she was so cuttingly intelligent, so ruthlessly honest, that he often thought he might swoon over her and melt right out of his chair.

That grin was indicative that she felt overly vindicated—she had been telling him for days that she didn't believe that he hadn't had something to do with the ruin of those hems and here he was perpetuating the thought. Though, he thought to himself, she _wasn't_ actually wrong. He was a horrible Alpha and he knew it but he couldn't rightly tell her that he had actually been surreptitiously easing the large wheel of his chair over the girls' hems so that he might tear them upon asking them to fetch him a glass of punch and a finger sandwich. That their hems would be torn would be a way for him to keep them from his side at least for as long as a seamstress or house maid could take to fix them—something he had been ultimately hoping to accomplish. Their rush to help Miss Bennington after she'd been soaked by Hannah's vengeful whim had led them to depart with much more fervor that they would have otherwise and thus, the hems were destroyed beyond all repair, the tears in the fabric ultimately stretching much farther up than was salvageable and thus, the expensive gowns were likely to be wasted.

He couldn't tell her this. Then she would blame herself for the hems—not that she would feel sorrowful in the slightest, but he would at least save her conscience just in case. She was fully at ease in her role as a subversive Beta matchmaker and she had told him of her function not long after he'd begun actively courting her. That he was nearly staking his claim over her seemed not to deter any Alpha from quietly asking for her assistance and for his part, Miles gave his tacit approval. He had not given a verbal approval because she had _not asked for one_. She was her own woman and it was clear that she had absolutely no patience for any of his jealousies. He hid them as best he could and kept a watchful eye on the Alphas who danced with her, the whims of his woman keeping him out of the libraries and into the ballrooms.

It was a dangerous place to be when all the Omegas wanted to ruin things for her. He'd never known that such little perfect creatures could be so hideous when their affections turned sour. Not only had he found himself swamped with them at times, there were even mothers who came to him and spat venom when they spoke of her and his attentions toward her. Despite all of that, there were no Omegas who seemed as though they truly wished for his attentions. It was all a sham and he recognized that he was a tool for them to get back at her. Merely the nail that they sought to pry out of the wood and discard for it was too bent and broken to be used again. They only wanted everything that was good for Hannah to fall apart and they would find any reason and any method to do it.

He cleared his throat. “You know, I fear that the Omegas are getting much more creative in their pursuit to ruin you, dearest.”

“Is that so?” she asked, raising a brow. She feigned disinterest but he was learning the subtle signs of a Beta's scent changes. She was invested in her little hobby and she was invested in _him._ She wanted to know if there was something to fret about.

“There was a mother the other day, I don't seem to recall which, who tried to suggest to me that if I did not keep myself away from you, I should find myself caught in some kind of scandal or another. That was the implication, anyway, and I daresay, it would not be difficult for someone to accomplish if they set their minds to it.”

“How is that?” She had her full gaze on him now and she was no longer feigning anything.

“Well an industrious little thing or whomever was in league with them might simply take the back of my chair and push me to an available empty parlor and arrange it so that someone of merit might wander in upon me and a young lady.”

“But you wouldn't _have_ to marry her. That's the benefit of being an Alpha and a _man_.”

He sighed. “Hannah...you know how that would come out.”

“Can't you simply put your hands upon the rims and stop them?”

“Well it's a bit more complex than that. If the chair has momentum, I'm not strong enough yet to stop it. Surely in a few months, dragging myself around in it, yes, of course. But now? My arms are terribly sore from it and I fear I would have no recourse.”

“So what are you saying?” she asked, a tinge of worry bleeding into her voice. “You'll not go to any more parties? I do like having you there, you know. It is rather nice to come back to you and have your opinions upon the matters at hand. I should miss you if you won't come. What about dinners? Don't tell me that your courtship of me has ruined all possibility of...of...well _our courtship._ ”

He cleared his throat again, looking around to see if there was anyone about in the park that might be watching them as Hannah's voice had risen and her cheeks had gained a mighty pink. “They are not to be satisfied until you have been brought low, darling.”

The endearment came from him so swiftly and so without his usual nervousness that it made her start with a little jerk, staring at him for a moment as she decided whether or not she had liked it and wished to be called “darling” in the future. As she settled, it was clear that she had decided in favor of it and she spoke as if it had never even happened. “I don't care what the little devils do. They can't make me lose you. You should know that I would not compromise myself with another Alpha and I should know that you should not do so either...with an Omega, that is.” She stared at him for a few more seconds. “You would not...would you?”

He chuckled. “Not for all the tea in China. I...I have not changed my feelings for you, Hannah.”

Her mouth quirked to one side for a moment. “I can see this worries you greatly. But then again, you worry so much, Miles. I've got a wonder if you've time for any other emotion.”

He chuckled. “I only worry when it comes to what matters to me the most.”

Not without a little vanity, she suggested, “Me?”

“Of course, you.”

“Fine, then,” she said with an air of finality, “It seems to me that there is a great deal of affection between us.”

He looked at her, unsure of what she meant by pointing it out.

“Miles?”

“Yes, Hannah?”

“I think we should marry.”

He coughed, having suddenly choked upon his own spit.

Hannah patted him lightly. “Oh dear, I hope I haven't shocked you overly. I thought you might approve of the idea. After all, you're not giving anyone else any attentions and neither am I. I'm certain the Alphas who need help with their prospective mates will find some other way to get assistance and well, I _am_ rather fond of you. It wouldn't do to have some interloping Omega think she can ruin us by stealing you off into another room.”

“N-No,” he tried, gathering himself. “I-I suppose it would n-not.”

“Good, then we are in agreement?” Her eyes were glinting with a particularly dangerous sort of light and the thrill of it was enough to make him warm from head to toe. “I'm certain that Olivia and Chastity shall be much relieved to hear that it if I should be forced to retire from my scandalous ways, as their future prospects might dwindle due to it. Aside, I've had my fun. I think it's high time I quit being so silly. After all...I like you very much, Miles. I shouldn't think that there could be another Alpha that I should ever meet that I would like more.”

His heart felt like someone was squeezing it. “Y-You really want to?”

She took his hand, the prickle where her skin touched his sending radiating waves of heat through his hand and arm. “Yes. I do. I would not have suggested it otherwise.”

“Alright then...” he nodded. “I will ask your sister's permission and then I will arrange it...” He felt nearly breathless and he was certain that he would not feel the full effects until much later when he could take the time to think all of the events over. Yes, Hannah Idlewind had asked him to marry her. She must have known that it would take him much too long to worry himself until he could gain the confidence to ask. It was exactly what he wanted. It was everything he could ever wish for. The best part of it all was that it was _her_ idea. He soothed himself by rubbing his palms over the blanket across his lap.

When they came back to the Idlewind manor, Hannah dutifully turned an about-face so that she wouldn't be watching him getting carried up the front steps and Aunt Ellen couldn't be bothered with the scene, hobbling up the stairs and out of sight as if entirely forgetting that she was supposed to be Hannah's chaperone. It was obvious that Hannah thought the whole idea of turning around was ridiculous but if it made him feel better about it, she wasn't going to argue the point. She followed him while he wheeled his way into the front hall and was divested of his coat and hat. With one look, he communicated to her that she should wait for him while he asked the footman where he might find the Earl.

“In the upstairs, sir. Should ye like me to fetch her for ye?”

“Yes, please. I'll be waiting in the parlor.”

He wheeled in to find Aunt Ellen already munching away on a few small sandwiches that had been brought in as a snack and Hannah sitting with her hands placed lightly in her lap, her cheeks still reddened from the cold outside.

“Goodness,” Aunt Ellen grumbled, “I hope she doesn't keep us waiting long, the Earl. She gets into that business she's been cooking around with Marksdown and the Duke and she loses the time too easily. I've still got to take my nap today before supper time and I'm impatient to get on with all this nonsense.”

Hannah frowned lightly, casting a questioning look to Miles. “What nonsense, Aunt Ellen?”

She turned about and waved a hand between the two of them. “This _engagement_ nonsense. It's been clear as the day that you two should have been announced weeks ago and here you are just now getting around to it. I should count my blessings, of course, some couples wait _far_ too long. Those damned little nuisances of Omegas tend to wait the whole of the season before they'll give their answer to those poor Alpha sods.”

“You were _awake_?”

Miles snickered, his amusement a tickle in his gut. The old woman was certainly something else, he had to admit.

“Of course I was awake. You couples don't get around to talking about anything of importance with a chaperone always breathing down your necks. If Idlewinds were always such sticklers about having one around, the Earls would never have gotten married.” She sniffed.

“That's hardly fair,” Hannah argued. “Val was near thirty when they met. He was far past the age where a chaperone would be considered necessary.”

She waved her hand again even as Drew entered the room, her presence stately and refined.

“You've had a need for me?” the Earl asked, sweeping the doors to the room closed to keep the sisters from overhearing.

“Yes,” Aunt Ellen crowed. “I believe the young man wishes to ask you a question that, in my opinion, is _over-due_.”

Drew smiled, the grin a clear warning that she already knew what this was about and it was in that smile that Miles found his courage.

“I suppose I should ask for an audience with you alone,” he suggested.

“Out,” Drew ordered, the tone not quite _Alpha_ but said with enough authority that the Betas in question immediately moved to leave. As she passed him, Hannah let her hand drift over Miles's shoulders, a skimming touch that had his blood glittering with heat. When they were gone and the door was once again shut, Drew moved to the small platter with the finger sandwiches and popped it into her mouth. “Not quite as tasty as the cucumber Asterly had at his party. I should pry for the recipe. It has to be fairly simple, wouldn't you say? Did you try one?”

Miles stared at her, trying to recall if he had. “Uh-Hum...I don't think I bothered with them...”

“Apparently the Duke has a fondness for them and I can't say he's wrong for it with how his cook makes them. I'll have to discover the secret or I'll never be satisfied.” She plopped down in one of the chairs and casually crossed one of her long legs over the other one while she leaned back. “So. I don't have to agree if Hannah already has. I don't pretend to have any agency in their lives...that is, unless I disagree with something. Terribly convenient. Also terribly convenient for you since I don't disagree with you.”

“W-Well that is a relief.”

“How does the end of the season sound for a wedding? Where might you find yourselves living?  Your father's estate?”

“I b-believe once I was wed, my father was to have me take care of the smaller of his estates and live there until he passed on. It needs a fair bit of work to update it and increase its profitability. If Ha— _Miss Idlewind_ should like to run a household, I believe she will find herself in great comfort there.”

Drew nodded, reaching for another small sandwich. “She's the sensible one. Capable. You'll do well with her. She comes up with the menu here and works with the housekeeper. I don't know what Val will do without her—I'm certain they'll start looking for him to give them answers and he can't be arsed half the time. So what do you think? May?”

“M-May would be lovely.”

“My place or yours?”

“It might be more suitable to hold the wedding at my father's house in Bedfordshire. It's a lovely house and the lawn is certainly beautiful enough for a wedding.”

“Brilliant. Don't listen to the old bird, Swophill.”

He knitted his brow.

“Ellen. It's only been a few weeks. I hadn't expected a proposal for another few _months_.”

“Truly, I must admit, it was your sister who did the proposing. Thank goodness. I should be embarrassed to note that I find myself in great relief for it. I wring my hands far too much over her thoughts of me.”

Drew sighed. “Betas are difficult to know. It takes time to learn to read them and even when you think you have it all figured, Hannah will throw you. She is the most difficult of my sisters to interpret though she is honest and she will tell you if you ask her what she feels. Take your engagement as it comes and study her. It will be useful to know the changes in her scent and her expression when she is thinking or feeling. Without the obvious clues, an Alpha can bumble their way into any kind of mistake.”

Miles took the advice to heart. With each subsequent visit, each morning or afternoon tea or carriage ride, Hannah's emotions were slowly unveiled. When she was concerned, a tiny little dent would appear between her brows even if it was nearly imperceptible that she had moved them. When she was feeling much warmer to him, she touched him more and the corners of her mouth seemed to deepen even if she didn't smile. Her scent, mild as it always was, was nearly melodic in its gentle floral essence as if he could sing along with it when she was happy. Unlike an Omega, it was quite the chore to know if she was anxious, her scent barely giving off a musky sort of odor that was still not unpleasant and to an Alpha who was not paying much attention, it could be easily missed. As the months passed, had begun to turn the chore into a science, seeking out her scent as he became attuned to it naturally, even sipping the air in the ballrooms when she was standing near to him to see if he could catch a whiff of it and recognize it as hers.

Their engagement had not come as a shock to any of the Alpha gentlemen and they readily congratulated him upon his having captured a very lovely and _deserving_ Beta. The Alpha Lords were practically preening over their success in matching the two of them, Asterly himself going so far as to take most of the credit for having dragged the poor girl outside so that she might have that romantic moment of finding his paper roses floating in the decorative stream. He was perhaps only overly smug because it had been he who had won the bet, determining in his mind that there could be no dilly-dallying when it came to an engagement when Miles was involved. He turned out to have been quite right and for that he won several hundred pounds from the grumbling and groaning set of Alphas that Miles was quickly coming to know as his friends. It was an odd feeling. He'd never had _friends_ before. That is, aside from his dogs.

It wasn't much of a shock when the whole team of Lords strolled across the lawn in May dressed immaculately and always together to see him off into marital bliss though he _was_ a bit surprised at which one of them happened to be the one to reassure him through his pre-marriage jitters.

“Listen,” Rainton said as he straightened Miles's cravat, “You're not going to stammer when you tell her you'll marry her, you're not going to stutter through all the vows, you're going to be fine. And when tonight comes, you're gonna drink some brandy, slip into your own bed, keep the dogs from interrupting you, and you're gonna make love with a beautiful woman. Does that sound like the perfect wedding day or what?”

“Yuh-yes,” he replied. The music was playing. His heart tightened in his chest. “D-do you think I-I won't stammer?”

“I know you won't.” His expression was grave. “You're getting exactly what you wanted, Alpha. Everything you dreamed. It's not going to be easy. Marriage is hard work, or so they tell me. You'll muddle through. It helps that you've got a partner.”

He felt an easier breath come into his lungs. It was true. He had a partner. Hannah. He nodded, feeling the familiar tingle in his fingertips of his anxiety slowly fading before he took his place to watch her come down the aisle. God, she was beautiful. Her gown flowed and rippled in the breeze and there was a ringing in his ears while he watched her come to him with flowers in her hair. Quinn had made the little golden ring of roses, painstakingly crafting the leaf so that it would appear as though wound within her braids. She was his goddess, floating among the fields and every time he saw her, he saw perfect snow, brilliant rays of cold golden winter sunshine—even now, in the depth of May. She came beside him and smiled, every bit of her faint scent contented and not a trace of nervousness to be found. Idlewinds were naturally brave, he thought, while he took her warm hands and trembled before her.

He did not stutter. Not even once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how everyone else does fiction but I often come up with a very specific scene that _begs_ to be written and I craft an entire story around that. In _A Toast to Twenty-Three_ it was Hollow sitting outside in the rain. In _A Saint in Clover_ it was Val sleeping against the stone wall. In _Swan Shine_ it was Cyril getting into a boxing match with a Beta. Next chapter is where we get to the scene my brain has been screaming about this _whole time._ I'm just giddy with it.
> 
> Thank you for reading and if you've somehow found yourself with spark enough to write me a comment, feel free to do so.


	14. Chapter 14

The Viscount was a tall man about the same height as Drew and despite his stature, he was remarkably passive for an Alpha—something Hannah was not surprised about in the least. It was no shock at all that a gentle Alpha such as Miles could have come from a gentle Alpha such as his father. It was overtly clear that Miles was his favorite son as all the other Alpha brothers seemed only to get cursory glances from the man and for all intents and purposes, they did not seem to mind at all. They were all rather industrious types, chatting about there investments and inventions holding all the Idlewinds' rapt attentions as they spoke. Alphas had a natural way with words, of course, but all of them even had Quinn leaning forward as they discussed their travels to locate important people or items for their business ventures—the second eldest of the remaining brothers having traveled as far as the Orient to find a man who could create a specific type of ink made from a quite rare Chinese flower.

“You see,” he'd said, his voice almost breathless, “There is a property to the ink that could likely be a balm to a specific skin ailment. It won't cure it but it could at least quit the itching.”

“Fascinating, and you traveled all the way to find it?” Quinn asked, her eyes wide.

“There was no one else I could trust. The ink comes in such small quantities and I needed to know that it was to go directly into the hands of my scientist. A peculiar little Prussian man but a genius, I tell you.” His green eyes flashed with admiration and Hannah scented an alteration in his scent toward a warm affection. She let her mouth rise a little on the side.

“An Omega, your scientist?” She fluttered her lashes and he paused, a blush rising in his cheeks.

“Yes. Very intelligent. You know how the Prussians are. Willful. Sturdy. Not so tight a hold over their fairer sex as we have.”

“Very intriguing,” Drew frowned. “Your descriptions...”

“I had never been one for sketching when I was a lad but when I was there, I managed to do a few of the pieces of architecture justice so that I might remember them later on. I should show you all sometime. The craftsmanship is marvelous and everything is so terrifically exotic. And the food. By god, had I the resources, I could have simply whisked this old woman away I found working in a tea shop. There is no hard working Chinese woman who is not a miracle worker when it comes to cuisine.”

“I shall believe that,” Hannah quipped while she searched out of the corner of her eye for Miles. She found him sitting a little ways off chatting with Chastity, the girl going on and on incessantly as the poor groom patiently listened with a clearly tired half-smile. “Oh dear. I fear I must rescue my husband from the drone of our little chatterbox.”

“Oh,” his brother blinked. “Yes. He does look a little worn out. Parties do tend to make him wilt a bit.”

She excused herself politely and moved to his side, resting one hand upon the handle of his chair while she pinned Chastity with a telling look that made her quickly wrap up her tale (one of intrigue, surely) and curtsy her goodbye. His appreciative gaze when he looked up at her told her that she had most certainly done well in keeping him from a premature death caused by significant boredom. For the most part, he had done well. It was hours into their reception and he'd kept alert, attentive, and so wonderfully patient with everyone—usually by now at a normal party, he was quietly snoozing in a corner somewhere.

“Perhaps I could get you a brandy?” she asked him, resisting the urge to gently caress the side of his face. Every time she saw him, it was nearly overwhelming, her desire to touch him even in the smallest of ways. It was as though she needed to categorize every bit of contact and the reaction she could gain from him by committing it. Her burning curiosity demanded it and alas, her conscious mind refuted it.

“No, no...” he said, destroying every bit of her efforts by reaching out, squeezing her fingers with affection. “If you put any liquor in me, it's a sure way to have me asleep before any of our guests go home. Though I hope you won't fault me if I were to duck out a bit early...I've a few exercises that I like to have finished before I go to bed and they take a bit of time...”

“Of course,” she told him, again secretly curious of him. She wanted to know everything about him and his routines—a thought that struck her only just now as she was newly married to him. There was so much about his daily life that seemed to be much more difficult and trying—she had to know more. “Do you need Mr. Burton? I could have him meet you.”

“That's kind of you,” he smiled, this time a little less tired-looking. “If you'll have him meet me in the hall...I fear that if I should spend any more time with this music, I'll be so exhausted that I'll miss seeing you in your nightgown...if that's not too crude of me to say.” He laughed at himself nervously.

She squeezed his fingers back. “I don't think so and mine is the only opinion that very much matters on that subject.” She moved from him and went to fetch Burton who she found making himself useful behind the scenes. He bowed her to with a unique sort of deference—the kind she was used to seeing when Valentine interacted with the staff at the estate. She had grown up with most of the staff at Netherfield and there was a comfort between them—how would she manage with a group who did not know her? It was not that they were in any way _informal_ , it was just that...there were so many small things that she had left behind for the sake of comfort and ease. So many small tidbits of propriety that she had thought unnecessary. She filed through her thoughts while she returned to the ballroom, accepting a glass of champagne from Drew before staring alone unseeing into the dancing couples.

“Do you often dream while awake?”

Hannah blinked, looking upward to find the Viscount gazing at her from beside her, his smile soft and warm and his scent a smooth smokey balm. _Like spiced rum and vanilla. An enchanted forest of brilliant greens and shimmering dapples with great, powerful stags pounding through the thick trees, the rumble of their hooves like thunder in the dens of the smallest burrowers._ She swallowed, wondering how in the world such an image could have been conjured by him. Never before had she been so struck by an Alpha's scent and she was shocked to find that its subtle notes and complexities of aroma reminded her so strongly of Miles that she impulsively searched for him despite knowing that he was not present.

“Your sisters seem the type, certainly,” he continued, “as they have been enraptured by the explorations and feats of both William and Reuben. They are foolhardy boys and I had honestly never held much hope that they might survive their recklessness.”

Hannah once again looked at him, this time taking in a breath to say something. He didn't let her.

“I suppose that must make me seem quite uncharitable toward them, as I, myself, was a rapscallion in my youth. No. I think I've done a disservice to most of my sons by having told them tales of my boyhood. They must have thought they could have out-done me.” He chuckled. “Well, except for Miles. Skittish little thing, he's always been. I don't think he would have stayed that way had the sickness not crippled him.”

Her jaw felt wired shut though she silently begged him to continue. As curious as she was, she simply had to know. She simply had to discover everything about him.

The Viscount sighed and straightened his shoulders. “You're a brave girl and a very kind one. I'll admit I was uncertain that he would ever procure a wife in London. I thought I might have had to intervene. But he's a gentle soul. Much kinder than his brothers—any of them, to be frank. Life is terribly unjust when it comes to the humane and worthy of us. I'm sure you'll agree.”

Hannah managed to pry her own mouth open. “His sickness...”

“Ah. You're curious.” There was a glint in his gray eyes while he raised one bushy brow at her. “A headache. A fever. All the boys got it. It was only Miles who found himself too weak to stand. He limped at first when it took one leg and then couldn't stand at all when it took the other. Only hours. The doctor claimed that it could have been much worse—that it could have taken more than his legs. He was bitter about it either way though he might tell you he was not. Sixteen. An Alpha? Of course he was bitter. It hadn't helped that his older brother thought him simply weak and his younger brothers could only manage pity. Rot the lot of them. He's smarter than all of them combined though he won't often admit that he is and he's been running my estate for the better part of two years.”

“He said he's just been doing—”

“He's been doing all of it. I've been more focused on my investments elsewhere. He's been doing everything despite that he might claim that he's only been marginally involved. You see, my girl, for Miles, running an estate is so much like clockwork that he often sees himself as being idle. He convinces himself that he does practically nothing because that's what it _feels like_. When an Alpha can't get up and physically move and _do something_ , he feels restless no matter how much work he completes otherwise.” He cleared his throat. “He's under the impression that my man, Mr. Tillsdale, is my estate manager which, of course, he used to be. Now, he functions less so and we have gradually moved most of the burden to Miles. Though Tillsdale does plenty of leg-work, he does not do any of the letter-writing, problem-solving, or decision-making. All he does is implementation. Without Miles, he'll resume his post here as my manager and Miles will have another man to fill the role at Darton House.”

“Now that he has his new chair,” she said thoughtfully, “Perhaps Mr. Burton could manage it.”

The Viscount was quiet for a moment, pondering the thought. “Hmm. A likely candidate, though a valet...”

“If he is not to do more than implement, then he should do well, I would think.”

He smiled, gazing at her with a renewed bit of appreciation, his scent pleased. “A Beta wife. Practical, thoughtful, resourceful, and above all, intelligent. You have missed no good novelty of your gender, daughter.”

_Daughter_. Her throat could have closed from the suddenly overwhelming sentiment that choked her. She clenched her teeth together and took in a calming and steeling breath to remain without tears in her eyes. To lose a father was expected in life. To gain one was something she had not foreseen.

“When he was at his lowest,” the Viscount continued, “He was convinced that he should never be able to stand unassisted again. I was told by his doctor that he was likely correct in that assumption and like a decent father, I sought to make it possible for him. When he was eighteen, I had the south wing of the house added for the purpose of a very particular pool. It's warm and the water is treated naturally. I haven't told him that I've installed an even better one at Darton House for his time there. It's done him wonders and I cannot bear to think of depriving him. I do dote on him...perhaps too much. Miss Sovelle will show you; I'm certain that's where he is and you know...when he was a child, he _did_ learn to dance.”

“My Lord—” she began, puzzled. Before she could finish her question, a short French Beta girl, Miss Sovelle, offered her an arm and she took it, feeling awkward and confused while she was escorted off and out of the ballroom. “What an odd family...” she mumbled while the two of them wandered down a hall leading to the south wing.

Miss Sovelle chuckled. “Yes. But 'is Lordship is only too kind. Bless him. 'Ere we are.” She turned Hannah toward her and had to reach up a little to straighten the neckline of her bodice and pat the edges of her hair. “The 'umidity will ruin your 'air but no matter. 'E will think you beautiful as you are.”

The music from the ballroom was still loud enough to hear, echoing down the hallways with alluring harmony, a siren song that wafted through nearly the whole of the house. When she gently pushed open the door they had stopped before, a warmth spread over her face and she could have exalted in the earthy richness of the sudden moisture and heat. She felt any stray wisps of her hair suddenly become weighted and heavy and the prickle of sweat just barely began as she let the door ease shut behind her. The music was almost somehow louder in the cavernous room where warm lamplight flickered and glittered as it was reflected by the surface of crisp, clean water, the stringed instrumentals ringing through the moist hot air and filling her up in ways she couldn't rightly define. Chilly white moonlight streamed in through huge plate glass panes in the roof that looked to be hinged and cracked open to the side to allow for ventilation.

“H-Hannah!” he exclaimed, pulling himself quickly to the side of the pool to face the wall of it. His voice echoed just slightly while he stared up at her, the water lapping at his shoulders from his quick movement and his gray-green eyes focused upward upon her where she stood near the door. “I-I...I didn't expect...I wouldn't have...”

“This is _beautiful_ ,” she told him, still marveling at the gilt and marble pool. Most of the room had been constructed of materials that would hold up against constant moisture and heat, stone and marble together creating a grand and elegant design that she had no doubt was one of the most expensive efforts the Viscount had ever commissioned.

“Y-yes...I suppose it is. I-If you wuh-wish it, I can h-have Burton bring m-me my towel and...and...w-what are you doing?”

Hannah was slowly reaching behind herself to pull and tug at the ribbons at the back of her gown. “Am I not allowed to join you?”

His jaw went slack and his eyes were as wide as saucers. He tried to say something but his stammer was much too prominent for any bit of actual words to come out, most of his protestations a blended garble of aborted sounds that ended in a distressed, deflated sigh. He shivered despite the obvious warmth of the water while she patiently waited for him to give her a response while she held her hands behind her back, ready to pull at her ribbons some more.

“Well, Alpha?” she asked softly. “May I join you?”

“I-I am n-n-n-nnn...”

She smirked, amused. “Nude? That is how one bathes, is it not?”

His face was red and she was certain it was not from the heat of the pool while she continued to undress.

“P-Please, H-Hannah!”

“Oh quit your fretting, Alpha. I shall leave on my chemise if it shall make you less of a bore. If you've forgotten, Miles, we _are_ married. I will have to see you sometime and you will have to see me. _Without_ my nightgown.”

He gulped, watching her while she shed her outer layer, the thin cotton of her chemise clinging to her body while the moisture in the air weighed it down. She imagined that he wished he could turn away from her but his eyes were affixed, his interest in her form so intense that he was unable to bring his attention to anything else in the room. Not the gilt. Not the marble nor the stone work. Just her. It was enough to make her bold while she stepped toward the edge of the pool, toward the wide, shallow stairs that led into it. She didn't wait for his permission and took that first step in, only two inches of that warm water coming over the tops of her feet and sending a luxurious tingle over the rest of her. Another shallow step and she felt the hem of her chemise soak and become heavy. As she took another step, it floated up, baring her ankles through the clear water and she blushed while she watched his eyes twitch downward at them. With every slow step, the hem floated higher until she was deep enough to push it down though it had already bared her knees and likely would stay floating somewhere around them underneath the surface.

“Miles?” she asked while she waded, aware that the thin white cotton clung to her and had gained a gossamer appearance, translucent and oh-so-very revealing. The closer she came to him, the deeper the pool and she paused near the edge only a few feet from him, the waterline just barely reaching the bottoms of her breasts.

“ _Y-yes?_ ” he asked, fighting hard to keep himself oriented toward the wall so that she might not see him fully while he stared at her face, intent on not looking downward at the rest of her.

“They're playing a waltz.”

He seemed to refocus for a second, his eyes shifting upward toward the ceiling and then back down to her while his brows twitched downward.

“Your father said you learned to dance when you were younger. Will you dance with me?”

“I-I...I...I can't.”

“Why not?”

He frowned, at a loss. “I'm...I'm...I have a....you see, when a m-man...”

She passed him an incredulous smirk. “Surely it cannot keep you from _dancing_.”

Miles flashed her a petulant glance and then looked down through the water, mumbling softly. “You won't be b-bothered by it?”

“No.”

“Y-you have to promise n-not to...to touch it.”

Hannah nodded, seriously. “I will do my best.”

He was trembling when he nodded back and took in a steady breath, slowly side-stepping and keeping his balance with the edge of the pool as he moved toward her. When he was close enough, he reached out to her and she took his hand, letting him use her for balance while he slowly brought himself away from the wall.

She kept her eyes on his face and gave a tiny cry. “You're _taller_ than I am!”

Bashful, he emitted a small laugh. “I _am_ an Alpha. May I p-put my hand...”

“Anywhere you wish, husband,” she invited, grinning while she supported him. She gave a quiet and excited trill when she felt his hand upon her waist, his fingers warm and impossibly close to her skin through the wet cotton. Her other hand came to his shoulder and she jerked when she heard him give out a short but odd little sound. “Miles?”

“D-don't worry,” he told her. “It is your touch. You are _bewitching_ , Beta.”

“I shall take that as a compliment. Shall we dance? Slowly?”

“Alright,” he told her and he let her lead him. In no way was it possible for him to keep up with the waltz though he did know the proper steps and as they moved, she kept him balanced, the earthy, mineral-laden water helping to loosen up his movements. She studied his handsome face, touched by the barest hint of strain while he danced and realized something so foreign and yet so familiar that it stung her.

_I love him._ It was that light in the dark spaces that had done it, she thought, watching as the play of moonlight over him cast him as younger or older or somewhere perfectly immortal when he was inbetween. She wanted to kiss him. To touch him. To have his whole body against her and feel every bit of his strong, Alpha heat. Hannah could not help but be thankful for every Omega and every mother who had cast him off as broken for they had done her a great favor. They had given her this gift of an Alpha—a gift of a man—with passion and reverent joy in her. For all his nervousness, she could not think of him as anything but whole and gloriously made.

The set ended and she pulled him to the side of the pool, suddenly aware that within their dance, she had slipped below the waterline to her shoulders, her chemise clinging to her breasts while he stood before her, winded from his effort.

“Miles,” she said plainly while his eyes clouded and he came closer to her, his shaking hands finding the edge of the pool on either side of her shoulders. Thinking quickly, she mimicked the natural Omega gesture to invite him to scent her, tilting her head while she felt the heat of his body through the water. “ _Ahn,_ ” she moaned, shivering at the brush of his nose and lips over the side of her throat, the cold rush of his searching breath terrifically intimate despite her gender. There was a slight pressure between her thighs and recognized her arousal readily. It came as no surprise. His own heady scent had surrounded her and it was somehow both burning and _erotic_ in its spice. “ _Miles..._ ”

_Strong storm winds whipping through summer grasses and fawns taking shelter with their mothers in the brush. Hard pelting hailstorms and burning lightning seen as forks and flashes through the gaps in a dripping forest with a canopy so thick that rain runs in rivulets down trunks and into roots. Passion of the sky and nature unleashed in a maelstrom of shadow, lit brilliantly by such white, white light streaking over the deep and the dark. Burning. Fire. Lightning. Heat._

“ _Miles..._ ” she moaned again, her thighs opening to allow him between them, his body pressing finally against hers while the hem of her chemise floated up between them. The touch of his turgid flesh against her was explosive as she gasped, arching against him to press her breasts against his chest while he continued to scent her, pushing his nose deep under her ear and against her jawline as if desperate for her.

“ _Hannah,_ ” he growled, the depth to his voice very _Alpha_ in its possession. “ _I need you._ ”

She finally chanced a glance downward at the foreign bit of his anatomy that was now pressed firmly against her and though she could not see it clearly through the glare over the water, she was somehow absolutely positive that her body was screaming for it. Everything inside her was crying out for what he could give her and there was nothing that could stop this—she needed him too. Without hesitation, she reached upward sliding her hands over his chest until she had gripped his shoulders, the touch eliciting a deep and profound moan from him that reverberated in her very core. He held himself up with the edge of the pool and she slowly lifted her feet from the bottom as she gripped him, cradling his hips with her thighs.

“ _Mmm, Hannah..._ ” he groaned while she held him. He moved one hand down under her thigh to arrange himself, his other arm trembling as it sought to hold him up. With fumbling movements, she felt the blunt tip of him slide against her, opening her until he had found the very spot that would accept him. With his hand again anchoring him to the side, he pressed forward, his lips opening while he slid his searching tongue over the side of her throat.

When he breached her, she made a small “eep” as the girth of it took her by surprise. The sensation was so markedly different from her own explorations she tightened her knees against him, halting his movements for the moment at least.

“ _Augh..._ ” he panted against her, mouthing and suckling in his worship of her, seemingly not concerned at the least to how deep he could have been inside her. He was breathing hard and heavy while he tasted her, groaning against her while she held him tight with her thighs. “ _Hannah...Hannah...Hannah..._ ”

Cautiously, after she was used to the feeling of him just barely inside her, she loosened her hold, tilting her head a slight bit until she could take the edge of his ear between her lips to nibble him. He moved against her with every care, pressing her back against the wall until she was pinned by him. His slide within her was breath-taking.

“M-Miles!”

“Huh-have I...” he moved his head back from her and blinked, his eyes still glassy with lust but his gaze focused. “Have I hurt you?”

“N-no...” she sighed, overwhelmed by the sensation of him hard inside her. “It is just that...that this is so...it feels so odd.”

“ _God_ ,” he breathed, dipping his head again to scent her. “You feel _incredible_. I'd never d-dreamed...”

She had never dreamed either. Though Drew had tried to tell her how the whole process worked, it was difficult for an Alpha to explain the complexities of the act and it was impossible for anyone to have told her exactly how it should have felt. Even now knowing, she could not imagine trying to explain such an intimate experience and sensation to her sisters and even as she thought of this, the whole train was blown into the wind and melted upon the surface of the churning water as Miles began to move. The force was mostly in his arms and he used the near weightlessness of his body in the water to pull himself partially out of her and then pull up again to bury himself fully. It was slow at first, steady and caring.

“ _H-Hannah...oh God..._ ” His pace quickened while he panted hard in her ear, the bulk of him sliding in and out of her in a shaking and rapturous rhythm that quickly had him unraveled. “ _Ahn! Ahn! Ahhhhn!_ ” He ended his awkward thrusts to the hilt, pressed tight against her with his body and so warm that she thought perhaps the pool had chilled. His member was still twitching inside her with spasms that shuddered through his body and altered his breathing while his rapture continued. When it was done, he sank with her until her chin was touching the water's surface and she took stock of everything that had happened. Her body was still charged and tingling with an unspent electricity and she thrummed with it, clenching around him in question while he breathed against her. “Mmmf,” he protested.

“Miles?”

He pulled back to look at her, resting his forehead against hers and regarding her with a sleepy gaze.

“D-Drew said that...a man expels his...his _seed_ and a woman...uhm...she...” She tried to remember the words that her sister had used. “Has a moment of...euphoria.”

“R-right,” Miles agreed, nodding slightly. “P-perhaps I should be best suited to accomplish the task in our b-bed.” His cheeks were pink and warm. “M-My brothers have given me a f-few ideas...”

“Good,” she replied, adjusting her grip about his shoulders, pressing her fingers into the muscles there while he relaxed. Hannah eased herself toward him, tentatively brushing her nose beneath his ear to pull in his smokey, forest fragrance. “ _Because I am very much excited by you, Alpha..._ ”

He swallowed audibly and gave a nervous laugh. “Oh...I... _hah_.”

As if to impress upon him her honest opinion, she claimed his lips in a kiss that searched him and took him. She felt that charge within her, pent up and humming, and she rocked her hips, seeking more of that friction he'd given her. He moaned into her mouth and she swallowed every sound, aching for something that was just out of her reach—something that she knew he could help her find. For every Omega who dared toss about the accusation that a Beta could not be a proud and sensual woman, Hannah hoped that there was a Beta girl who dared and risked to have everything she deserved. She was not about to allow herself to forgo her pleasure for the sake of modesty or propriety. She was not about to be in any way mild when it came to having what was rightful hers.

Her treasure. Her passion. _Her Alpha._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> December has been difficult. Thank you for reading my stuff.
> 
> Comment if you feel like it.
> 
> Note: Please do not have pool sex. This is a romance novel, it's not real. Pool sex can harm the balance of bacteria in your vagina and can cause infection. Not to mention that water around your vulva is NOT good for your personal lubrication and it is not pleasurable. Please do not, I repeat, do not have pool sex.


	15. Chapter 15

Hannah was a bundle of energy, practically dancing from foot to foot and pacing while she and Burton helped him with his towel and his dressing gown. Usually after a good bit of loosening up in the pool, he could at least wobble with Burton's help to his chair but this night, his strength was nearly nonexistent, having been used up by his efforts to...to...

_Make love._

He sucked in a harsh breath through his nose at the memory of her body accepting him, that hot cove of luxury between her thighs that had clenched around him and taken everything he could hope to give. She had been so yielding and soft, her legs wrapped around him so lovingly—god, could his life get any better than this? He blinked sleepily while he was wheeled through the chilly hallways to their room, the music still floating about as the party continued late into the evening.

“Are you still with me, darling?” Hannah asked, combing impatient fingers through his short hair.

“Yes...”

“Good. We're going to get you into bed, alright?”

He blinked again and then tried to shake his head to banish the weariness he felt. “Yes, alright...” Before he knew it, he was among plush pillows, sighing into the warmth of the room with his eyes fluttering closed.

“You've sure done it to tucker him out, Miss Hannah,” he heard Burton say.

“Oh...” he heard her fret and he opened his eyes again, moving suddenly to sit up.

“Wait...wait...no.”

Burton moved to stop him from pushing himself up to sit. “Mr. Swophill, please. You've had a very exhausting evening. You need some rest.”

“No don't, I need...I need to...make everything right.”

Hannah's hand was on his shoulder while she addressed Burton, gently telling the man that all was right and that he should retire. They would ring the bell in the morning for him when they needed him and not before. When the man left, his wife— _his wife!_ —climbed into bed with him dressed only in her thin nightgown, pressed against him with her warmth and compassion easily detectable in that elusive scent.

“ _Shhhhh,_ ” she told him, coaxing him toward sleep. “It's alright, Alpha.”

“It's not alright...” he groaned. “It's not...it's not alright.”

“It's alright,” she repeated, but he twisted as best he could toward her, letting his nose move to her neck to scent that fading but potent arousal he'd wasted. A sudden tug put a crack in his heart and he reached for her, snaking his arms around her body to pull her tight to him.

“It's _not_ alright,” he told her, his voice aggressive and growling with his Alpha pride stung and wounded. “I don't want to be like this to you. I want to give you everything, Hannah. I want to be able to make you happy.”

She gripped him, clutching him against her and melting into his embrace easily, as if she had always belonged there. “You make me happy, Miles. You need to sleep. In the morning, I'll make you so tired, you'll have to sleep the rest of the day away, how's that?”

“I want to give you...to give you what you've given me.”

“You will. In the morning.”

He groaned, frustrated at his limitations. He had used his _Alpha_ strength to hold him up in the pool and there was no way to avoid the imminent fatigue that all Alphas experienced after the fact. That he was the way he was didn't help him. That he had been exhausted by the party alone would have been enough to make him doze off here anyway and he had resorted to that strength just to take his own pleasure and entirely _forget_ about hers.

_You're a sorry excuse for an Alpha and for a gentleman and for a husband, Miles Swophill._

It was upon that thought that he drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep that washed over him as the ocean laves the land.

* * *

When he woke again, he came out of the darkness into a sublime state of comfort and warmth with a delightful heavy sensation over his shoulder and the faintest tickle over the slope of his neck. As he came to, he found himself smitten all over again when he found Hannah with him, her head in the nook of his shoulder and her hand resting lightly over his heart. The tickle over the flesh of his neck was the wisps of her hair, messy and unpinned from her head, the tendrils and whirls of it snaking over the pillows and over just about everything, as if the masses of it were an uncontrollable ink spill. Everything about her was beguiling and mesmeric and when he lifted his hand to stroke the pad of his thumb over her brow, he could have melted into the pillows for her delicate whimper.

“Miles?” she whispered, stirring against him, her body moving closer to his to soak up all of his warmth.

“Yes, darling?” he breathed.

She didn't reply, snuggling harder against him until he could feel every soft plane of her body against him. Her tummy, her breasts, and the puffs of her breath as she eased her face into his throat as if scenting him.

“Darling?” he asked.

“Mmm?”

“Do I smell decent to you?”

There was a stronger puff as she laughed through her nose. “More than decent. You're actually rather attractive, odd as it is to say. Betas aren't usually the type to say so, I know.”

He moved to embrace her, pulling her until she slid her thigh over him to straddle him, her cheeks blazing when she felt what she did to him through the thin fabric of their nightclothes. She hid her face in his neck again, cuddling against him while she lay over him under the quilts and sheets, the crux of her open and pressed intimately against him. “Hmmm,” he hummed. “You're so warm and soft...”

“Do not embarrass me,” she mumbled into his throat.

“Do you mean to tell me that the woman who was dubbed 'entirely shameless' by the society papers has the gall to admit to me shame?” He laughed under her, shaking her with the force of it until she drew her head up to frown at him. “Oh lord, you are so beautiful,” he murmured. “Tousled and radiant in the morning and in my bed. I do remember your promise to make me so tired today that I should have to sleep the whole day away.” He grinned. “And I have not forgotten my promise to myself to have you screaming to the canopy and the curtains.”

She pulled herself up again and looked down at him with a bit of a sultry little smile. “Are you to tell me now that you would not be overly objective to my nakedness?”

He whispered up at her, feeling heat in his cheeks. “Not at all.”

With that, she slowly worked to remove her nightgown and he felt more and more blood pooling between his thighs. He'd been much too overwrought the previous night to fully appreciate the taut pink peaks of her breasts even when the gossamer-like nature of her shift had clung to them, translucent and revealing in the warm water of the pool. They were impossibly soft, and much more attractive than the drawings he'd encountered in books or the cold marble-like forms in some old paintings. She was sensual with softer edges and undefined lines and he was in awe of her beauty and in no way surprised that none of the great old masters had ever before truly captured the essence of her. Who could? If every woman was so—who could capture the truth of a goddess with such fallible hands and materials? No medium could capture her. _No man could do her justice._

He had stayed in utter reverence of her a fraction too long and realized it when she took his heavy hand in hers and placed it over her breast, her nipple rasped under his palm when he moved to gently cup her.

His voice was throaty. “Do you like that?”

“I like everything you do if you're touching me.”

Gods, how did she always know exactly what to say to him that could make him even harder than he was before? His other hand slid beneath the covers and his fingers dipped over the curve of her back, just barely brushing the very top of her behind and she giggled at the tickle, pressing down over him until he felt helpless with his wonder and his need. He breathed heavy. “Darling. I should...sit up.”

She let him, raising herself up until he could pull back so that he was sitting leaned back among the pillows and as he was finished up with the task, he felt her pulling at his nightclothes. After she'd managed to help him take them off, he felt horribly exposed. He should have felt more exposed the previous night but there was something about the weight of the water over him that had given him the impression of having been covered—perhaps it was the glare over the water's surface from the moonlight or the lamps. He wasn't sure. But now, he could see her, naked in all of her pale glory, and she could see him, beneath her and helpless to her beauty and her whim.

He couldn't speak. He couldn't do anything but breathe before her and groan when her hands came over his chest, touching him with a subdued and patient curiosity. She was mapping him, studying him, seeking answers from his skin while she moved her fingers over his collarbones and then to the warm heat of his neck. For all that innocent touch, she was sitting in his lap, the soft folds of her resting gently over his swollen manhood and the knowledge of it was driving his mind toward that now-familiar incessant ringing lust. It was all-consuming and if this was how he felt when a Beta touched him, he couldn't imagine what it was like to experience a rut. He wanted nothing more than to crush her against him, to feel every inch of her warm and supple form over him, writhing and moaning and filled.

Hannah spoke to him and he vaguely recognized his name as her fingers slowly brushed over his unshaven cheeks, rubbing over the bit that had grown overnight. “Miles...you're so handsome when you've just awoken.”

He croaked out a laugh, split from his wonderment enough to recall what his younger brothers had once told him. He tried to focus as best he could past the long snaking tendrils of her loose hair against the whiteness of her body and he moved his hand from the curve of her back, sliding his thumb into the hollow of her hip to coax her wordlessly into rocking her hips so that she might open herself against him.

“Ah...” she sighed, the wetness between her legs aiding her in a slide over the underside of his shaft, every hot movement over him a tender and prickling madness that seeped into his blood. “Oh that is interesting...” she murmured, closing her eyes as she discovered that the sensitive bit of her was very much appreciative of this delicious and sensual friction. “Would you mind if I just...just did this for a while?” she asked him, cracking open one eye to peer at him. He grunted his response—that he did not mind the least—and she understood, giving a short little nod before she began a slow but steady rhythm that seemed to please her very much. Her tiny pleasured sounds were sweet and light and he leaned back among the pillows with his eyes closed so that he might not entirely lose himself with the image of her.

It was only when she moved to take hold of his shoulders that he groaned and opened his eyes again, the touch of her fingers over him a fire he could not contain. There was something so inexplicably arousing about the way she pressed into his muscles there, the way his skin tingled with each and every moment she blessed him with. “Hannah!” he rasped, tossing his head back as if submitting to her and giving a soft cry when her lips brushed over his throat, bestowing tender kisses over his salty flesh. “ _Hannah_.”

She reached between her thighs and two of her warm fingers dipped beneath his shaft, lifting him until she could slide back and accept him, the entry so much easier this time aided by her generous dew.

His hands were on her hips, guiding her and simultaneously keeping her from driving him into insanity. He wanted her so badly and the pounding agony stole his breath.

“ _Don't torture me, Miles,_ ” she whispered. “ _Let me have you._ ”

“G-God!” he cried, whipping his head to the side and giving out a pained whimper when she took the rim of his ear into her mouth and nibbled, chewing and mouthing him until he could feel the shocks and waves of new arousal jolting down to where he barely joined her. She moved to his jaw, his throat and then the corner of his mouth, coaxing him and pleading with him to kiss her. He did, turning his head and letting her lead him into a series of bone-shaking kisses until he prodded at her lips with his tongue and she drew back a little, shocked. It took her only a second before she was back, pushing past his barriers with that wet, carnal desire and imploring him to partake of her as well. As she took him this way, she distracted him from his previous task and with a decisive roll of her hips, she had devoured the whole of him inside her clenching and greedy entrance, burying every inch of him into that tight musky sweetness.

“Ahn, Miles!” she moaned into his mouth, gripping him about his shoulders again and pressing her breasts against his chest. That he could contain himself was nothing short of a true miracle and it was even more so when she became too overwhelmed to kiss him any longer, her lips against his ear while she mewled and whined, her hips giving short rolling movements that rubbed the crux of her against him. “ _Miles. Miles!_ ”

He gripped her hard and lifted her so that a great portion of himself left her and he dropped her back down, grinding her forward so that she might have her pleasure. It worked and she learned quickly, bouncing in his lap to impale herself upon him. He could feel the strain of it inside her, how she stretched to take him and how with each desperate drop and roll of her hips, her need intensified. Her breath was quick and shallow, puffing against his ear with abandon. She was wild, every focused thought becoming a fruitless endeavor as she clutched him madly and he reveled in her erotic frenzy.

“ _Please! Please, Miles!_ ” she gasped while she writhed against him. There was no manner by which to tell what exactly she was begging for but he held her and guided her and moaned with her, his teeth itching to sink deep into the slope of her neck, to mark her, to _claim_ her so that the whole world would know that he loved her and he needed her and that they had shared _this_.

“ _Hannah! Hannah!_ ” he growled, mouthing her and sucking against the side of her neck while she bounced and squeezed him hard, the barrage of sensation she gave him too much for him to handle.

_No no no! Please don't. Please don't! I can't! Not before she has. Not before she's shuddering and—_

He was wrenched out of his thoughts by the sound of a short and loud little cry that accompanied Hannah's surprised jerk, her leg kicking out to the side while her whole form tightened and shook. She held him impossibly tight while she convulsed against him, twitching and breathing in stiff, startled gasps. Each of her breaths that came after were longer than the last and at length, she gave a shuddering laugh while she nuzzled his temple with affection.

“ _That was..._ ”

When she didn't finish, still breathing heavily, he offered a suitable suggestion. “Incredible?”

“ _Yes._ ” She gathered herself and sat up, her hand against her belly while she looked downward thoughtfully. “Alphas are terribly _large_ aren't you? Why...you're quite far inside me.”

Miles moaned, unable to stop himself from looking downward along with her, forced to think about how deeply he was buried inside her and how he'd parted her and opened her and stretched her in order for her body to accommodate his thick Alpha member. He could see the center of her through her curls, pink and satisfied and peeking from beneath its hood.

Hannah raised up her shoulders bashfully and gave him a tiny kitten smile, her cheeks pink in the morning light from the window, the shade nearly matching that of her blushed little nipples. “I...I should thank you, I think. For that...”

He couldn't help it. He growled, reaching up to the back of her neck and forcing her mouth to his. She giggled into the kisses he gave her but soon melted against him again while his other hand roved between them to knead at her breasts and roll her perked and sensitive nipples between his fingers.

“ _Ah! Ahn!_ ”

Without any sort of sensible thought, he held her against him while he guided her hips again with one hand, pumping her body up and down over his hot, hard length while he whispered into her ear the salacious things he wanted to do to her, flowing out of him and with nary a single stammer.

_“I'm going to lay you down in these pillows, Beta. I'm going to make you scream out my name with my mouth between your thighs. Oh Hannah, I'm going to push my tongue between those pretty lips of yours and suckle you until you weep with pleasure. I'm going to be merciless. I'm going to be heartless. I'm going to make you know me like the Alpha I am and you'll be wicked evermore. There won't be a day goes by without your thoughts drifting to what my mouth can do to you and every night you think you've forgotten, I'll kiss you there again, and again, and—”_

“ _AHN!_ ” She was wriggling and senseless and her struggle overcame him.

He felt the rise and the shudder, his release shivering through him as a hot wind blows through forest canopies. His cock throbbed within her, pumping her full of his seed. As mindless, boneless, and weightless as he felt, he didn't allow himself to fade back into the pillows. Instead, he lifted her, trying to ignore the pearly strings of fluid that connected them when her body released him. She helped him as he moved, looking to place her where he had been sitting. She did so readily, her eyes lust-filled and her thighs opening eagerly, the folds of her sex wet and dripping and open for him.

He hoped that the hint of his beard that had grown over the course of the night wouldn't irritate her already pinkened and bothered velvet but he couldn't think much farther past his true intention: to make good on his word. He came over her with his mouth open, his tongue wide and flat over her as he made his first sloppy and venturesome kiss. He was twisted under the covers like some odd renaissance painting and he was certain he'd have a kink in his back later for the effort but it didn't matter now—it couldn't matter now. He was too far gone in her, lapping and sucking and flicking his tongue over the most perceptive bit of her at the top of her sex, thoroughly enjoying the yelps and keening she let loose into the still morning while her arms reached up and she grasped at the headboard.

“ _Miles! Muh-Muh-Miiiiles!_ ”

Her hips shied from him but he held her fast, locking his lips around her and sucking as hard as he dared before he let go of the little nub and apologized to it by laving it with the flat of his tongue in languid strokes that pulled deep, breathless moans from Hannah's throat. He worked at her, careful not to spend too much time punishing her and instead focusing on that sweet, tight hole that had so diligently opened for him. He pushed his tongue as far as he could, dipping into her to taste her and the traces of himself that dripped and dribbled in opaline rivulets from somewhere deep within. His lust for her second release was greater than any need he had ever known and when he teased his tongue over the wet silk of her flesh and heard her light Beta growl, he knew he was to have exactly what he wanted.

His tongue touched her throbbing center and she screamed, arching her back and grasping at the pillows, tossing one of them dramatically across the room while her hips bucked up into his mouth. She pushed back with her heels as if to squirm away from him but he wouldn't let her go, clutching her buttocks and holding her tight while she cried out and kicked and sobbed, shaking in his grip with a wash of hard emotions that rippled through her Beta scent—a scent that had gotten deeper, heavier, and more pronounced as she came.

 _“MILES!”_ she shrieked, finally grasping at his hair but not pushing him away, merely gripping while she rode out the final waves of her wrenching release.

For a time, all they could do was breathe. She half-lay, half-sat among the pillows, her legs splayed to accommodate him between them while she heaved, her breasts hefting up and down with each labored pull. She still had her fingers twined in his hair while he laid his head down over her womb, careful not to put his full weight down while he panted against her. He licked his lips, feeding on the taste of her and the essence of her while the wetness cooled and he suddenly realized that it was not so warm in the room as it had been the previous night.

“Oh, Alpha...” she breathed, her voice shaking.

“Yes, darling?”

“That was...”

He laughed, a chuckle at first and quickly spreading into something uncontrollable. Thank heavens, she laughed with him and she made room for him when he dragged himself up into the haphazard mess of pillows and laid on his side to look at her.

Hannah subdued her giggles, her shoulders still trembling and moisture pooled in her eyes. “I believe, Alpha, that you were correct in your prediction...or was it a promise? I shall be wicked forever more...”

He murmured back to her, blinking slowly as a wave of content seeped into his bones and made him lazy. “You can be certain, my darling wife, that it was very much a promise. And so is this...” He grinned, his eyes heavily lidded while he gazed at her. “I will kiss you there whenever you wish it.”

“Mmmm,” she smiled, pulling up the covers to envelope them both in warmth. “I do like the sound of that promise. I shall hold you to it. Even if we are in the middle of a party somewhere. I shall steal you away and bring the servants running when I scream in the pantry.”

“Oh dear,” he chuckled, “perhaps I've made a terrible mistake.”

She laughed, the sound putting tiny bubbles in his heart that he swore could lift him into heaven. Her arms came around him and she held him, shifting so that she could snuggle her head under his chin. “I do like this little beard of yours as well, Alpha. It makes you look quite rugged and dashing. Does it always grow so quickly?”

“It does. If you decide you like it, I will tell Burton that I do not require a shave and I will look the part of a dangerous rogue...just for you.”

She sighed, settling more solidly against him and giving out a decent yawn. “Oh...I shall think about it. I do not know if 'dangerous' is quite the word for you.”

“No?” he asked, sliding one warm hand down over her rear until he had dipped the tips of his fingers against her still soaking femininity.

She wriggled with a squeak. “I take it back. Perhaps you are dangerous. Though later, should I be tempted to retaliate...”

He grinned and hugged her tight. “ _Do your worst._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forget any meaningful plot motion. From here on out it's just fluff and fucking. Great job, everyone. If you're looking for drama, suspense, and plot, I just started an F/F, Alpha/Alpha story, [Mouse in the Mews](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12999450/chapters/29724513) with Hawk and Tilly from [An American Dream](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11197440/chapters/25005387%22). We were due for some F/F right? Right. I'm not done with this story yet, there's still fluff and fucking to get to, of course. Well... _more_ fluff and fucking to get to.
> 
> Seeing as we're into Hanukkah now, Happy Hanukkah everyone. I hope everyone is having a safe December. Good luck on your finals if you still have any, and try to relax.


	16. Chapter 16

Sometime around noon, there was a scratching at the door and Hannah looked at Miles with her lips between her teeth, imploring him.

“Oh, alright,” he conceded.

She pulled the cord for Burton and then slipped out of the bed and into a new shift and then her dressing gown. When she wandered over to the door and opened it, she was delighted at the near waterfall of bodies that tumbled through it right at knee-level. Some of the dogs were bigger than the others, a few hunting hounds, a few toy breeds, but the tiniest stayed near the end and paused to look at her when he toddled through the door. He was a little feathery-looking papillon that she had learned some time ago was named Sylvan and he was so tiny that he was unable to jump up into the bed by himself. Of course, Hannah picked him up, snuggling her cheek against his fragile head as she wandered over to where Miles was being mauled by five or so happy dogs.

“Oh god, you _brutes!_ ” he laughed, pushing at them and hitting them with the pillows while they panted and tried to play with him. “Ouch! Just because I don't move my legs doesn't mean it doesn't hurt when you stomp them!”

Hannah was laughing, holding Sylvan to her chest while he licked at her jaw. “They're just happy to see you. After all, they haven't seen you since yesterday. To a dog, that is a great amount of time.”

“Please,” he rolled his eyes, pushing one of the hounds off of him. “They're spoiled to death here. It's no tragedy that they've not seen me for the length of one night.”

She was still laughing with all of her amusement. “I do hope your father hasn't become overly attached to them.”

Miles seemed surprised. “You'll allow for them? All of them?”

“Why wouldn't I? Remember you used to chat about them all the time when you courted me. They're obviously important to you and I do like dogs though we've never had any at Netherfield that were allowed in the house.” She scratched behind Sylvan's ear and watched him close his eyes with appreciation at the action. “I should never want to take anything from Bailey House that would cause your family pain to lose...well...” she narrowed her eyes. “Except _you_ of course. I am terribly selfish when it comes to you.”

He lay back among the pillows and smiled, his scent contented and warm, sparking with an electricity that bound him to her. She felt waves of goosebumps rise on her arms and spread through her body until she felt her nipples tighten under her shift. She was almost ready to ignore the dogs, and the soreness between her legs, and ride him again when Burton made his soft signature knock on the door.

“Good morning, newlyweds,” Burton grinned, spying Sylvan in Hannah's arms. “I see the dogs have taken some hostages this morning.”

“Hannah's going to let us keep them,” Miles beamed, taking one of the fluffy English setters into his arms and hugging her tight.

Burton chuckled. “Well, he's taken to marriage like a fish to water, hasn't he? I suppose he'll be asking your permission for just about anything he does.”

She lay a tiny kiss over Sylvan's forehead. “Give him time, Burton. He hasn't yet realized that he doesn't need my permission for nearly anything.” She flashed Miles a little wink and then turned about toward the window while the two of them fought through the dogs to get Miles ready for the day. Her ladies maid arrived shortly thereafter and tucked her behind a screen, her cheeks red from Hannah's insistence that she had most certainly already seen her husband in the nude and he had obviously already seen her.

“But Mr. _Burton_...” she whispered behind the screen.

“Oh posh.”

The long-suffering maid gave a great sigh with her eyebrows raised nearly to her hairline. “Far be it from me to give you advice, but you are a firebrand and you ought to take care that yer 'usband is the _only_ man who's ever to see you in the nude.”

“Ah...” she sighed, unable to keep from teasing the woman, “but you should see him, Maude, he's _such_ an Alpha...”

“'E's comely,” she provided shortly.

“His morning stubble is quite alluring, is it not?” she asked.

“Oh good lord, you are trying me, girl,” Maude told her while a tiny smile seemed to curve her lips upward at the sides. She lowered her voice even more so despite that the men seemed engrossed in their own innocuous conversation. “Do you need anything, dear? For pain?”

“For pain?”

“Yes...if it was painful...”

She recalled that it had been somewhat strange—a sensation of being _breached_ that she had never before imagined. It was a _tad_ sore, to be sure, but it was nothing that required willow bark or the like. “No. It was not _painful_ per se. It was just a little odd. It was rather...big.”

“They're made that way for a reason, lovie,” the maid sighed.

“I think I discovered that,” she mused, catching Maude's eye and sharing with her a few discreet giggles.

When she was put together in her morning dress, she found that Miles was only about half-ready, the process of getting him into his clothes and settled into his chair a bit more complex than what men were probably used to. But for Miles, it was his everyday, and he smiled at her with his hair somewhat messy and his cravat untied around his neck while he sat in his chair.

The morning was fresh and spring-like and over the course of it, most of the guests took their leave. It was up to them if they wanted to embark on the short journey to the secondary estate and for all honesty's sake, she admitted to her husband that what she truly wanted was to find a rather long time to be alone with him. This had the predictable effect of sending his scent into a ruffled amalgamation of arousal, anxiety, and elation, as he stumbled over his words and stammered his way into assuring her that they would have plenty of time to be alone with each other. Soon.

His lewd promises to her the night before kept swimming up in her mind and it tickled her to know that the Alpha in him had been so inspired by her that he had been forced to make it. _You'll be wicked evermore_. She believed that with her whole heart. She would _never_ forget the way he had put his mouth her to—kissed her, sucked her, licked her. Hannah had never before this past season thought of herself as a bold Beta...a strong one, perhaps. She had been helping the housekeeper at Netherfield for quite some time and she had helped to raise most of her younger sisters. Through everything, she was patient and mostly quiet compared to the others but here, with Miles, she felt every bit the wicked temptress that the papers had decried—and she loved it.

She couldn't wait to have him again even despite the happy soreness she felt between her thighs from that thick Alpha girth. As she moved through the day, helping Miles with what to pack up and with the logistics of transferring the whole of his life to a new estate, she felt that soreness slowly melt away. With so much to think about, she noticed his anxieties had all but gone and by the time they were tucked into their carriage after a light lunch and sent off on their way to Darton House, he was happily alert with Sylvan curled on his lap and a contented smile spread across his face.

“Hmm,” Hannah murmured as the coach began to roll. “Perhaps I _should_ have told Burton not to give you a shave. Though it was probably prudent to do so.”

“How's that?” He gave a light frown.

“It would hardly be proper for me to ravish you in front of Sylvan. It might be traumatizing.”

He was amused, no doubt. “Oh yes, wouldn't want to scandalize the dog.” He rolled his eyes at her. “I suppose this means that I'll have to make certain not to tire myself out with my exercises tonight.”

“And you're not allowed to spend too much time talking to Mr. Tillsdale about estate business,” she chided. “I know you want to get into the swing of things, but I don't want to be waiting for you to come warm me up if I don't wear my nightclothes to bed.”

He drew up. “And why should you not wear your nightclothes?”

“They'd only be in the way, dearest,” she explained teasingly.

Miles gave a chuff. “Wicked woman.”

“You knew what you'd gotten yourself into, Miles Swophill.”

“I certainly did not,” he told her, trying to suppress his grin. “I suppose I shall have to live with my misfortune, nevertheless. At least you're a beautiful Beta. It should make up for how much of a shameless wanton you are. I don't know how I've dealt with you thus far.”

She pulled out her fan and tapped him on the knee with it. “I think you know exactly how to deal with me.”

His lids dropped and she could scent the Alpha in him as his voice took on a throaty hum. “ _Later._ ”

She leaned back, satisfied by the response she'd gotten out of him and with the resolve to make that promise into a reality.

Darton House was only a few hours away and by the time they arrived, the sun was just beginning to touch the horizon as they were ushered in by the housekeeper, the woman obviously elated to have the home lived in once more and, better than that, lived in with a proper lady of the house. She was immediately whisked away by the housekeeper while Miles was taken off with Burton and Mr. Tillsdale. Her first order of business was to meet the staff and of course she did so with grace and poise, determining firstly that the house was mostly staffed with Betas and Omegas. The Alphas of the staff were mostly the stable hands and the stable master along with a few others whose work was mostly limited to outside the house.

When there was a minute to spare as they were inspecting the kitchen, easing about all the flitting staff who were preparing supper, Hannah asked the real question that was laying on her mind.

“How long have you and Mr. Tillsdale been married?”

The housekeeper jumped a bit, her sweet Omega scent wafting with a little uncertainty. “Oh...near about two years, I imagine. Is that a problem for ye, mum?” She wrung her plump little hands together and stared upward, her brows knitted.

“Oh no. I was just concerned about what might happen if His Lordship would prefer Mr. Tillsdale at Bailey House.”

“Ah...” Mrs. Tillsdale frowned. “My man's got a few duties here and there he's got to take care of from time to time. If he were to go back there permanent like, I suppose I don't know what I'll do.”

“I don't mean to pry,” Hannah explained, “but was it a lovely romance?”

She tried to hide her obvious joy through a bashful exterior but it was only too prominent in her scent that she had been clearly swept off her feet. “All I'll say about it is that I'm ever so grateful that His Lordship found fit to send an Alpha to our house. He's been a blessing.”

“I can only hope that your Mr. Tillsdale doesn't inundate my husband with too much information. He'll want to stay up and examine all of it and I don't know how Omegas are,” Hannah sighed, “but I am not inclined to be patient with his work...at least not right now.”

“Well o'course you're not,” Mrs Tillsdale murmured, leading her out of the busy kitchen and into the relative quiet of the hall. “Don't you even think that you're strange for it, mum. No woman would be content to go without her man during a time like this and just because you're a Beta doesn't mean there's any less of it pent up within ye.”

She felt her brows come together. “A time like this?” She was nearly inclined to believe that the woman meant what Hannah had—the time just after her wedding, but somehow it hadn't sound like it.

“O'course,” she nodded. “Oh bless you, mum, you didn't even know.”

Hannah felt decidedly puzzled by the fluffy-looking Omega and even more so by the strangely comforting scent she was putting off. “I didn't know...what exactly?”

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Tillsdale giggled, leading her down the hall. “I suppose you're aware that an Omega isn't the only to have a heat?”

“Well yes, but as a Beta, our heats are nearly imperceptible.”

“And ye haven't noticed yours then.”

“No...you...you have?”

Mrs. Tillsdale gave her a sage nod. “You're right stuck in the middle of it, mum. We've so many Beta girls tossing about this house that it's near too easy to start sniffin' it out. If I were you and was looking for the time to give him an heir, pardon my crass, mum, I'd never get off 'is lap.” She nodded again. “It's difficult for you Beta ladies sometimes. If I can make it easier for ye, I'll do my best.”

“You know, Mrs. Tillsdale, I very much appreciate your candor.”

The Omega gave her a knowing smile and the barest little wink. “Soon as I seen you, mum, I knew you would. I'll try to make certain Mr. Tillsdale doesn't keep your Alpha overly long. I'll do my part best I can but when it comes to Mr. Swophill, you'll have to be firm.”

She nodded, enjoying the conspiracy as much as the little Omega housekeeper. “It doesn't bother you that I should have married Mr. Swophill?” she asked curiously as the woman led her outside into the fresh spring air.

“I beg your pardon, mum? It's not my concern who the master marries.”

“My being a Beta doesn't offend you?”

“Dear me, no,” she scoffed. “You're a proper lady and he's a proper gentleman and that's that about it.”

Hannah paused for a moment to roll that statement over in her head until the Omega began to explain where the ice house was and how it was set up. _That's that about it._ There was no reason for anyone from this point forward to be concerned with her marriage to Miles and herself least of all. She'd won. She'd gotten exactly what she wanted and the most alarming bit about the whole endeavor was that she had come to love him. Enough to pine for him at the slightest provocation—though, she thought as she sat across from him at supper, perhaps her emotions were being played upon as a result of her heat.

_My heat..._

It was unusual for a Beta to know when she was going through her period of fertility and now that she did, she didn't know quite what she wanted to do with the knowledge. That she might know every time if she were to rely on Mrs. Tillsdale was an exciting prospect and it set her on edge to be able to pinpoint exactly what sort of changes it could have on her state of mind. Was this simmering lust that shimmered below the calm surface a part of it, or was that going to be her everyday experience with him until she had taken her fill? Was it part of her heat to be so _ready_ for him? She wanted to know. She wanted to find out.

Still, after supper, he excused himself to look over things further with Mr. Tillsdale and so Hannah was left with her reading in a rose damask parlor with a wide window that overlooked the southern meadows of the property. The moon was new and the night was dark though pinpricks of tiny glimmering starts twinkled and sometimes distracted her from her reading when she lifted her head to to look at them. She remember what Lord Rainton had said to her when she had first begun her strange journey toward this life with Miles and it had been about the stars and the constellations. She wondered if Miles ever marveled them the same and sighed while she thought about laying out with him on a blanket and making love on a warm night outside.  She examined her wedding band, gold and glinting on her finger and imagined straddling him, naked in the moonlight, taking her fill of him and riding him to completion just as he sank his teeth into her.  Ah.  That permanent bite.  That mark of a bond that she felt in her soul as if no other could take his place even as hard as they might try.  She wanted such permanency.  She wanted that exquisite pain and to feel the power of his Alpha claim.

_These thoughts are simply scandalous. Even more so than the ones you used to have. Those girlish fantasies about being stolen and kissed in gardens by rakish gentlemen are nothing compared to these._

She tried to remember about what time of her life she had first become smitten with the thought of gentlemen stealing her away and determined that perhaps it was around when she was fifteen.

_Are such thoughts indicative of a first heat? Or perhaps merely the product of those first changes that one experiences as a Beta?_

She couldn't decide and even still, it had no bearing now. She was a Beta and she would remain one and that was all she needed to know. The place between her thighs that he had so tenderly lavished with attention the night before felt swollen and needy. She wanted to touch it, to feel the wetness there that her thoughts had brought on. It seemed a little wrong to do so...after all, Miles was here. She should wait for him. She should share this with him. A heat was, in all ways, a terrible thing to waste and she was eager to try for a pup. Her hand came down to her belly, just over her womb and she warmed.

_I could have one already..._

She wondered how she might know. If she might get queasy like some did a few weeks after a successful conception. Admittedly, she hadn't been around enough women who had become with child to know what it was much like and Val was as stoic as they came, rarely getting overly sick and if he did, he didn't let it show. Even when he had been on the cusp of losing the first babe, he had given no indication of sickness or pain. She got up, restless and in want. In want of a babe, in want of her husband—a little bit of both? It didn't matter. The pressing urgency could wait no longer and she wryly thought that if this particular subversive bit of lust was part of a Beta's heat, then she no longer could fault an Omega for losing their minds with theirs on instinct. Despite being fully in control of every faculty, she was still pining for him and set almost to pacing.

She sought him out, wandering through the halls until she had found his study. At her knock, he bade her to enter and she did, closing the door fully behind her and silently thanking whatever servant had thought to light a fire in the hearth.

“Are you alright, darling?” he asked, “Have I left you too long?”

“Far too long,” she purred, maneuvering around his desk and bringing her hand to his face so that she could sweep her thumb over one brow.

“Oh...” he said nervously despite his timid expression. “Perhaps I should call for—mmf!”

She had silenced him with her lips, drawing his face toward her with firm fingers to his chin. He had, the previous night, surprised her with his tongue and she sought to do the same, hoping that her inexperience would be equally balanced with his so that she might not embarrass herself. He allowed her entry, relaxing as she delved into him and tasted him, letting her tongue play over his in a gentle prodding set of dips that gave her shivers for the unique and teasing sensation. She delighted in him and in the brandy he'd been sipping, tasting it on him as she explored him tentatively though with much eagerness.

“ _Hannah..._ ” he whispered into her mouth before he slowly wheeled himself backwards. At her soft moan, he halted and his hands moved to her waist, pulling her until she was perched on his lap sideways, held by his strong arms, stronger now that he'd come to get used to his chair. He continued to kiss her, unendingly happy to entertain her in such a way. “ _Oh Beta..._ ” he murmured against her lips. “ _I love you..._ ”

“Good,” she replied, huffing her heated and aroused breath against his cheek and then his ear while she brushed over his shoulders and his chest with her hands, wishing that he were naked so that she might caress his warm flesh. “Because I am very much in love with you as well and for this to be so one-sided should tear me apart.”

“You tease me,” he moaned. “A devilish Beta.”

“Is there any other kind?” she asked breathlessly while she fought with his cravat.

“I'm beginning to think not,” he confessed.

His neck, now bare, was too much of a temptation for her and she set upon him with her lips, kissing him and scenting him, surprised at herself for her own passion. It was _him._ Only Miles that could set her blood alight like this.

“Perhaps the bedroom, darling?” he suggested only to be met with an inarticulate growl.

Hannah struggled with his clothes, untangling him from his waistcoat and opening his shirt so that she might run her fingers down his broad chest while he held her. Her voice shook a bit while she touched him, reveling in his warmth, the softness of his skin and the brush of the hair on his chest against her hands “I can't wait for the bedroom,” she told him in a desperate groan. “I want you now.”

He licked his lips, his eyes lidding heavily. “Alright, darling. I think it can be managed. I shouldn't have left you so long...I thought perhaps there might be some pain after...after last night. I've heard there can be...after the first, I mean...”

“I'm in no pain,” she told him, nibbling the rim of his ear. “Save the pain I feel from being without you.”

His fingers were working the ribbons on the back of her gown, tugging at her until he could pull away her bodice and drag down the strap of her shift to expose one of her breasts for his mouth to worship. “Alright. Alright, darling. My beautiful Beta. I'll give you anything you wish. Anything at all.”

His arousal intoxicated her, the salt and spice of it filling the small room and flooding her head until she was swimming with it. Hannah felt herself begin to pant, the pressure at the crux of her thighs mounting while he laved her. “ _Miles...Miles..._ ”

“Yes, darling...”

“ _Anything?_ ”

“Anything.”

She closed her eyes, focusing hard on the feeling of his lips sucking at her tender nipple. “ _I want you to claim me._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two days later and another update?! Good lord.
> 
> Up Next: I think we know.
> 
> Next chapter may be the final chapter in this one. I don't have much left in this story to tell. [Mouse in the Mews](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12999450/chapters/29724513) is my next story and the good news about that one is: _Standard Posting is coming back in **January.**_


	17. Chapter 17

It wasn't _unusual_ , per se, for a Beta to have a bondmark but still, Miles was at first taken aback by the request. It was arousing, to be begged for a bite, and he could feel another part of him fair _leaping_ at the idea. It was normally the mark of less civilized Betas—those who were uncultured and less in control over themselves. It was also rather uncouth for an Alpha to be so desperate about his Beta spouse... He would never deny Hannah anything. Not one small thing. He was going to bite her and he was going to do it while she was writhing in his arms and pleading for release. Even now, with just the way she squirmed in his lap, he was painfully hard and ready to simply tear away her gown to have her naked.

“ _Miles_ ,” she whispered in that hot, wanton way. “ _Say you will. Say you'll claim me._ ”

“I will,” he told her immediately. “I will, Hannah. I will. Right here.”

She gave out a desperate keen and pulled at her clothes, letting her gown and shift tumble together down from his lap until she was untying the tapes of her drawers and slipping free from her stockings. With every glorious inch of her that was revealed, Miles felt a pounding pressure inside him, beating like a drum and increasing in intensity and rhythm until he was almost humming from the force of it. Nude in the firelight, she took to him, stripping him of his open shirt and waistcoat, leaving him naked from the waist up while she set to unfastening his trousers with shaking hands.

“ _Drat..._ ” she mumbled as her fingers couldn't seem to handle the buttons.

“Darling,” he crooned, moving to help her, easily freeing himself and hissing while her warm hands pulled him out and touched him so tenderly. “ _Darling_.”

She sat in his lap, curling an arm around his shoulders while she touched him with her other hand, the whole scene something that seemed like it could have been in one of those bawdy Venetian paintings he and his brothers used to giggle over. It wasn't so giggle-worthy now, he thought while she studied his length with her hand, mapping him and running the pad of her thumb down the underside of him.

“It's so different,” she mused softly, stroking him lightly while he drew ragged breaths. “Everything about a man, and an Alpha, is so different and it is as though...as though you were a wholly different animal.”

“It's not so different,” he groaned, letting his hand drift to her belly and then slide lower to tickle over the mound of her, brushing through her curls to gently search the top of her sex for the small nubbin that could drive her wild. When he touched it, she jolted with a gasp, her thighs opening in want of the sensation even as her hips shied back. “You've the same little bit right here.”

Hannah eyed him suspiciously. “Then why does one of my small touches not send you clear to your maker? Ahn!” He'd begun a slow circle around it and paused to wet his fingers on his tongue, returning to her and daring not to touch her directly.

“You're merely sensitive,” he explained. “I can be sensitive too...the way your thumb—yes!” He held his breath while she experimentally increased the pressure of her thumb on the underside of his head, against the seam of him. “Some men...some men are. Just the same as you.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, exploring him while he circled her, increasing and decreasing his pressure in a kind of mirror to her own experimentation. When she realized what he was doing, she gave him a playful expression. “You're a teasing Alpha,” she told him, leaning against him and settling more solidly into him so that she could nibble on his ear.

His cock twitched.

“Oh!”

He chuckled. “It is too much for me. Your arm around my shoulders and your mouth on my ear.”

“It did not know it could move!”

“I can make it move,” he told her, humor in his voice. “It is not difficult.”

Her expression was that of amusement and unencumbered awe. The sort of face he expected of a child discovering magic for the first time.

“Darling, are you quite alright?”

“I-I don't know what to say, Miles, I had not known it could _move._ Have all men this ability? I had thought...that is, I was told very little about it and I assumed from the way it was spoken of, that is was very much its own entity!”

“It's own entity?” He laughed. “No! Should you like to see it move?”

“I should like to see that very much,” she told him, staring at it as though it were to pull a rabbit from a hat.

He flexed and it bounced.

She giggled. “How very amusing!”

“I'm glad you think so. See, when _you_ squeeze your own muscles, you have a tendency to clamp down upon anything that happens to be...” He slid his fingers between the wet folds of her and teased where she sloped inward, the soft edge of her sheath opening willingly enough to the tips of his fingers.

“ _Oh!_ ” She tightened her grip around his shaft and he paused for a moment, relishing the squeeze of her fingers.

“Do you like that?”

“I should...I should like it even more if you would...” Hannah met his eyes and held them while he took her unspoken command and filled it, pushing two of his fingers into her as far as he could, curling them about until he had pressed upon the spongy wall of her so that she moaned. Unable to hide the pleasure of that touch, her hand left him and moved to his chest, palming up until she had gripped his shoulder.

It was his shoulders that were his undoing always and he couldn't place a finger on why that was. The hard knead of her fingers upon him made him groan with his potent arousal, surging back from the humor of their circumstance and forcing him to bead the slightest bit of fluid at the tip of him. He was so close to losing himself and only from this—though _this_ was more than he ever thought he would have in his life and it was rapturous. The way her body moved in his grasp, like liquid fire, warm and passionate, supple and filled with heavenly vitality. Every single bit of her was like a blessing from the angels and he could have wept with it. His goddess. His light.

“ _Miles_ ,” she sighed, peeping a bit as he slid a third finger inside her and then accepted her mouth in a soul-crushing kiss. She opened him. She offered to him. She took from him. Every sound she made was swallowed by his lips and his throat and every thrumming hint of her compelling arousal was laid bare to him. Her mild Beta scent was all around him and he couldn't help his visceral reactions to its plea.

_Make love to me._

This winter goddess, warm in his arms in the midst of May, was wordlessly pleading with him and he was in no way in any position to deny her.

“Hannah,” he groaned into her mouth. “I need you. You're so wet...” He withdrew his fingers and started to move her. “Darling...with your back to me. Please. Open your legs, yes, just like that.”

Her legs were opened awkwardly at first but as he was able to position himself and then take her hips to ease her back, the weight of her aiding in the wet slide of him far inside her grasping channel until she was sitting flush against him, her thighs spread to accommodate his knees between them and her back arched as she adjusted to how deeply he'd speared her. He shimmied a bit forward so that she might be able to sit easier and he felt the tip of him reach the end of her.

“Oh...” she said. “I don't like that.”

“Alright,” he breathed, closing his eyes and lifting her a bit. “We won't do that then.”

She nodded, comforted, and let him guide her so that they were both more comfortable.

“Should you like to come, darling?” he asked her, reaching around her waist and holding her so that her back was fitted to his chest. At her gentle nod, he held one thigh while he let his fingers creep down her belly, finding where she was opened by him, stretched by him. He wet is fingertips in the moisture that seeped from her body and gently dabbed over the crux of her.

“M-Miles!”

“It's alright, Hannah. Don't fight it. You already know how good it can be. What I can do to you.”

She nodded, harder this time. “Yes, please. Please, Alpha.” As he swiped two fingers over her, she cried out, her thighs shuddering and seeking to close and yet held at least half open by his strong grip. “Alpha!” She was trembling, the want in her scent like a wildflower blooming in the desert, rare and precious and so beautiful. He rubbed her, delivering to her a friction that was relentless, generous, and painfully pleasurable. Miles could sense the tension in her, the way her back tightened as if he had drawn back upon a bow and the delicious catch of air in her throat as she seemed somewhere caught between a gasp and a scream. The sway of her, the jerk of her hips as he was buried inside her, it worked him alongside the clasping of her inner muscles, each pulse of need that shattered her forcing a tide of rippling pleasure that milked him and drove him to the brink of his sanity. Simply being inside her while she sank ever deeper into the depths of her passion was enough—but he had to wait. He had to wait until she had come to the edge and teetered.

It wasn't long. Not when he had begun a quick and cruel onslaught of sensual caresses that had drawn from her throaty moans and shrill, shrieking cries. Even had she not locked the door, it would have been entirely obvious to any servants that what their masters were up to in the study was in no way distressing and so Miles did not hold back, delighting in the way she whined out his name, her hips rocking to shift his cock inside her while she rose and rose to that peak.

“I'm going to claim you, Hannah,” he panted, altering his position that he might press his lips against the spot where her neck met her back. A place where she could hide a mark if she so chose. “You'll be mine forever. A mark to bond you to me...my Beta.”

Her response came between her pleasured gasps while the muscles inside her fluttered and squirmed. “ _My Alpha..._ ”

Miles could feel her getting near to the edge, inching closer and closer until she could fight no more and toppled. As the moment overcame her, Miles wasted no time, quickly and ruthlessly bearing down with his teeth upon the back of her neck until he heard her scream both in pain and orgasm, her body clenching tighter than she ever had before and forcing him to tumble hard into his own release. The force of it caused him to release her and let out a deep, _Alpha_ howl that shook him to his soul.

It took him a few seconds for the black that had seeped in from the edges of his vision to slowly fade back and when it did, he found her laying back against him, heavy and heaving. He watched over her shoulder while her breasts rose and fell in a quick cadence that, had it not been immediately after his peak, he should have found to be most erotic. His hand was still between her legs, warm and dripping with her.

“I've...I've...” she tried, unable to articulate herself so soon after she'd come.

Miles felt dampness spreading and soaking beneath her and thrilled at the prospect that he'd made her so overcome that she had spurted the evidence of her release at the highest moment of her climax.

“I've... _never..._ ”

He panted beneath her, her weight comforting and her ebbing pleasure rippling through her scent. “Was it...alright, darling? Did it hurt too badly?”

“No...” she said, her voice far away as though she were in disbelief of some natural wonder. “Is that...is that how the Omegas feel? Do they feel more than I do?”

“I can't imagine they do,” he breathed, holding her tenderly while she calmed, warm and naked and vulnerable.

“No,” she replied. “They could not. I feel as though I could have fainted with it.” Her own hand touched his where it lay over her womb. “It was such a remarkable pain...nothing like any pain I've ever felt before.”

“Mmm,” he rumbled against her, drawing in a breath afterward in a deep and resounding purr.

“Oh...” she said and he could hear the smile in her voice. “I suppose I should like to have you in bed now...though I've made you such a mess. It will be embarrassing to fetch Burton, will it not?”

“So you've taken advantage of me where I sit and only now it's alright to take me to bed,” he teased.

“I was very much desperate for you. Can you blame me? Having left me for so long going through papers...” She tightened around him and he groaned.

“Oh I will have revenge for that, you vixen,” he warned, reaching up and carefully pulling the pins from her hair, letting it fall about her in tresses of auburn that ignited the smoldering fire in his blood. “If you keep this up, you'll find me having another go at you before we can even make it to the door.”

“Is that so terrible?” she asked, guiding one of his hands up the smooth expanse of her until he had cupped her breast in his palm.

“No...I suppose not. If you're not too sore.”

“Will you touch me again?”

“I will touch you however you wish. Though if you would prefer that I use my mouth, I should like to be in a bed for that.”

Hannah seemed to weigh the options in her mind. He couldn't see her fulling but with just the barest hint of her profile he saw her take her bottom lip between her teeth and chew it, mulling her options. “Well...alright. I should like to go to bed then. If you will promise to...”

“I promise.”

* * *

He was snoozing again. He couldn't help it. It was such a busy time of the year for all the festivities and he had gotten nearly no sleep between his work on the estate and his Beta wife rolling over and _tempting_ him nearly every morning. After he'd thought everything was in order and all would be taken care of if they took a short holiday, they'd been packed away and snuggled up warm together in the back of the coach with Sylvan tucked up between them, occasionally sitting on either of their laps while the carriage rocked about on the snowy roads.

Netherfield was beautiful in the winter with rolling white fields filled with pure snow and all of the evergreens trussed up around the grounds with ribbons and twinkling bits of gold and silver sparkle. Hannah's sister Olivia was fretting about her upcoming season already while the other siblings spent most of their time playing games, chatting, and reading.

Dinner had been filling and as was the case after every meal that stuffed him, Miles had scooted himself near to the fireplace in the drawing room and closed his eyes, perching his cheek on his fist to doze for a little while until he was fetched or engaged in some type of conversation.

“Mr. Swophill?” Lord Netherfield asked in a breathy and ethereal tone, his cloying Omega scent tickling at Miles's nose.

He opened his eyes, drawing in a deep breath and blinking away his drowsiness.

“I hate to bother you but Hannah was insistent that she wished for you to come help her pick out which cakes we'll be having on the menu for Christmas dinner. She tells me that you've a bit of a sweet tooth, sir.” He adjusted the squirming babe in his arms, the rambunctious little thing kicking and struggling as best she could but for no discernible goal.

“Ah,” he smiled. “Thank you, my Lord. Uh...may I?” He held out his hands to the pup.

“Of course.”

Miles beamed, taking the tiny pup in his big hands and holding her while she made soft sounds of displeasure. It was not that she was discontented with him but more so over just about _anything at all_ and so Miles was not offended in the least. “Hello, pup.” His deep, soothing voice seemed to calm her a little. When her tiny fists were balled up in his jacket, he slowly made his way, following the stately gliding Earl to the kitchens where Hannah was standing beside the cook and chatting about certain icings. When he was in a suitable position, he adjusted the pup who had stopped her fussing in order to enjoy the smooth ride of Miles's chair.

“Ah, Constance has found her friend again, I see,” Hannah joked. “You know she loves your chair. I daresay she's going to want you to race through the halls when she gets older. You'll have to show a little restraint, perhaps.”

“Restraint has never been one of my strengths,” he told her, trying his best to appear innocent. “Especially when it comes to cake.”

At the sound, little Constance's head perked up and she peered about, making the attempt to stand by using Miles as a crutch, her little feet heavy points on his thighs.

“Oh dear,” he mused while he swept her up and held her like a new babe. “See here, little one, you can't just go about stomping all over a man's lap.”

Hannah dipped her finger in one of the icings and held it out to Constance, clearly expecting the girl to taste it. Miles beat her to it, nipping the end of his Beta's finger and relishing her affront. “Miles! That was for Constance!”

He supposed that he shouldn't tease the poor thing but having her in his arms was good practice, he thought. It was nice to get in some time with children before he ended up with one of his own and no idea what in the world to do with them. It had been nice to have this little pup about to hold and play with, her moods mercurial and her nature quite fickle indeed. He wondered if this was simply the way of all pups or if this one in particular was more a fright than the rest. Her parents, in any case, didn't seem to mind. The Lord and Lady Netherfield easily handling the pup and doling out guidance and discipline that was well-matched for the little one's misbehavior. Observing the firm but parent-like tone of the Alpha Lady Earl was more than educational for Miles and he thought he benefited much from their holiday in that regard alone.

After all, he was about to be a father and he wanted as much experience as possible.

He grinned both at the admonishment and the taste of the confection. “I'm a much better judge than Constance is,” he assured her. “And my judgment is that this is such a wonderful icing that I might steal the whole cake away and lick it clean.”

The cook made a pleased sound and fluffed up, her Omega scent content with his praise.

The pup, not to be deprived, made certain that more than one of her fingers made it into the icing bowl before she was taken away from the thing and wheeled with Miles back into the drawing room where the rest of the family had congregated about to hear Olivia practicing on the pianoforte. She was fretting nervously over her performances should she be asked to play during the season and though her playing was beautiful, she was nearly reduced to anxious tears every night unless Lady Netherfield herself heaped her with praise.

“You're doing wonderfully, Olivia, you'll be fine.”

“Are you certain you cannot come with me, Drew? You went with Hannah and...and...”

The Earl stared at her solidly. “I will come later on, you have my word. There are too many issues happening here at Netherfield to be caught up in London in the snow. Please, Olivia. Practice your music and stop worrying so much about it. Perhaps Hannah could be willing to come visit you in town as well. Should you like that?”

“ _I_ would go,” peeped the young Chastity.

“Of course you would,” Drew told her flatly.

Miles smiled, sitting back in his chair while the usually rambunctious little pup in his lap leaned against him and yawned, blinking her wide cinnamon eyes slowly. He hummed a bit, watching the siblings passively squabble while Hannah sat nearby on a settee, observing the goings on with subdued glee.

Lord Netherfield, Val, was the one to break the mess when he popped in, a glass of sherry in his hand. “Oh dear. They're at it again. Oh quite good, Mr. Swophill. You've managed to put her right out. You're a natural.”

He tilted his head to peer down at Constance while the group turned to gaze at him. “Am I? I thought it was the chair.”

“Chair or not, I think you'll be perfect with your own children.”

“I better be,” Miles said mildly. “I don't have much time left to practice.”

There was a silence that spread like thick syrup through the room and Miles noticed it immediately.

“What?” he asked, looking from eye to eye to eye.

Hannah frowned, staring at him intently. “Miles...what do you mean?”

He gave an incredulous laugh. “You...you can't be serious.”

“I'm perfectly serious.”

Miles drew up, frowning back. “You're... _you know_. Surely you knew. It's as plain as day to me.”

Val blinked. “The scent of expecting is... _very difficult_ to sense, Mr. Swophill.”

“Oh, it's not her _scent_ ,” he explained. “It's...it's _everything_. I should have mentioned something before, I see. A few months ago, I noticed your hair was...different. Thicker, I suppose? And you're tired more often now. You nap almost like I do. Not to mention, I'm sitting down here all the time. I think I'd know when my wife's flat tummy started to round out.”

Drew cleared her throat. “Are you certain, Mr. Swophill, that she hasn't merely had too many of your cook's pastries?”

Hannah made a soft, indignant sound and tossed one of the decorative pillows from the settee directly at the Earl's head. “I have not! If Miles believes that I'm expecting, then I will certainly believe him. After all...the housekeeper has a very discerning nose about a Beta's _heats_ and she has not given me any reason to believe that I've had one for quite a while now...”

Val perked. “Then this calls for celebration. Merry Christmas, everyone.” He sipped his sherry and walked decisively over to where Hannah sat. “May I be the first?”

“The first?” she asked.

He rubbed at her tummy, only just slightly rounded. “It's good luck to rub a filled belly.”

“Is that so?” she asked in amusement, leaning forward and rubbing his with a gentle touch. “Then allow me as well.”

Val shot a dirty look to the Earl and his jaw dropped. “You _told!?_ ”

Miles laughed, inadvertently waking the pup in his lap who he held carefully as she snuggled closer to his chest. Fatherhood was going to be easy, he thought warmly as he watch his wife—goddess and Beta—squabble with her family. Not only was it going to be easy, he was going to love every moment of it, as long as he could share it with her.

A little while later, as they were tucked into bed together, Hannah's head comfortably nestled in the hollow of his shoulder while he played with the long tresses of her hair, he hummed with his content and asked her the burning question.

“You really didn't know?”

“I'd no idea. After it didn't catch after the first heat, I'd just thought that it would happen whenever it happened and that I shouldn't worry too much about it. After all, even Omegas go heats without conceiving and they're considered almost infallibly fertile. I've not felt sick in the slightest and nothing really has changed...though according to you, there has been plenty of evidence I've overlooked. I must seem like such an unobservant Beta...”

“No, no,” he murmured, turning his head to kiss her hair. “You're the most attentive Beta I've ever known...aside from Burton, of course.”

“Ah,” she laughed. “It will forever be my curse as a wife to be compared to the valet.”

“Mmm,” he sighed. “As attentive as Burton is in some regards, he cannot hold a candle to you in others. And he does not look as beautiful as you do either.”

“That is a relief,” she told him as she moved and kissed him at the side of his neck. He touched her, bringing his fingers to the risen scar of the mark he had laid upon her. “Mmm,” she hummed. “Does it make you a proud Alpha?”

“Your mark?”

“And your pup.”

He grinned a very Alpha grin to himself and didn't mind admitting that it was quite smug indeed. “Yes...”

“Good. Lord knows what an Alpha would do without his pride.”

“Oh yes,” he agreed softly. “Lord knows...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This _is_ the end of this. It was a fluffy little story and I'm happy that there were at least some people who decided to read it. I know it wasn't painful, angsty, or even interesting to many, but hopefully the next one will make up for all the fluff in this one. I hope you liked it.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, I'm having a wonderful time. If you're at all interested in my Twitter or Pillowfort (since Tumblr bit the big one and _murdered me_ ), feel free to visit at [@JD_Riley19](https://twitter.com/JD_Riley19) and [J.D.Writes](https://www.pillowfort.io/JDWrites).
> 
> Join me for my next adventure and thank you again!!!


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